Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
The Evening Moon
She was a flightless bird of prey.
I swallowed her words and remember
Eyes that would not drop me.
I tempted her anger and loss
Of speech ensued as she told
Stories of heaven from the inside out.
I had never known beauty,
This mute who screamed with her hands
And held warnings like infants.
She had a graceful leap and would
Cast stones into the souls that
Feigned faith in her thoughts.
She was nothing more and everything less,
A peach without a pit who stole
A glance at death and never returned.
I remember her now, fetid feet
From lack of use and the smell of roses
Upon her dried, cracked lips.
She wrote letters that seethed in
My mind many years later.
I still look to her, the evening moon,
And how she bought back my blackened heart
With fevers and icicles, dancing upon her fingertips.
2-12-10
I swallowed her words and remember
Eyes that would not drop me.
I tempted her anger and loss
Of speech ensued as she told
Stories of heaven from the inside out.
I had never known beauty,
This mute who screamed with her hands
And held warnings like infants.
She had a graceful leap and would
Cast stones into the souls that
Feigned faith in her thoughts.
She was nothing more and everything less,
A peach without a pit who stole
A glance at death and never returned.
I remember her now, fetid feet
From lack of use and the smell of roses
Upon her dried, cracked lips.
She wrote letters that seethed in
My mind many years later.
I still look to her, the evening moon,
And how she bought back my blackened heart
With fevers and icicles, dancing upon her fingertips.
2-12-10
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The Evening Moon
The Evening Moon
