November 24, 2008

Crystal


My mythology is of aliens and angels,
large eyed, thin fingered beings
with winged souls whose light overwhelms.

You dwell with the shadow people
in the new kind of darkness,
with those people whispering in your ear,
but when you look, they disappear.

I am a soap bubble,
thin-skinned and full of wind,
an ocean of rainbows floats upon me.
Yet, I am almost nothing.

You’ve married madness,
a toothless wench full of riddles,
“This is the last time,” she murmurs
this promise over and over.

I sleep in a veil of sensuous dreams
and dwell in the garden.
You rock in a cradle of nightmares
and sleep in the desert.

The whole world went bad for you,
under the homeless bridge,
up from the battered dumpster,
You swallow the seed of despair.

Crystal transforms for you and I.
I cup my hands under the rainbow
it throws on the floor straining to lift it
for little Abigail.
I drop it again and again,
to the delight of her waiting toes.

An ill wind blew the bad stuff
into your lungs
and for the first time,
all your colors came to darkness
and you could not be healed.

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