Comments Off on ouroboros Art of Writing, Poetry, Writing, Issue 7

By Gwen Morris

they are home to me 
and always will be

ol cherry vanilla candle flames
lick up my palms,
and rake warm scores down my cheeks
 the tears flow all the sweeter through their brandings
like scrapbooks of our summers in salisbury
timeless tale; friends to lovers to just 

coming home to sweet embraces
an act of love, sure
but within romances ocean
they have become a sunken cost

each time their smiles
enrapture, and shroud my shame with 
that easy august glow

and although i've fallen for a never-can-be,

   swallowing heart and pride
is simpler the longer i
coil onward

it aches to shove my devotion back
bows the knees 
grinds marrow
and roots me 
to this double-edged blade of
wishing for them both

swallowing grief and mind
is simpler the longer i 
coil onward 

and although i've fallen for a never-can-be

i have to wonder
could they know these emotions tarry here?
or am i less than a passing siren
ricocheting off the front porch
and sent gliding towards the rainwater gullies

still, i will clasp their hands across the dinner table
while honey sugar smiles grip my silhouette,
and bask in its shearing 
at this molten dusk hour

Comments are closed.