Sunday Sharing

 

Sharing this Sunday
with spent spool of spoiled
intertwined porcelain penmanship scribed in
crystalline signature across my faded wall-to-wall
carpet, long lost of its mongrel musk,
that canine perfume and dullard droll witness
to an ongoing amalgamation of orgasms
plenty,

With serpentine spirits woven in spider's
spongey webs spun in the complex columns of my
intestinal fortitude, moxie of grit and concrete chasms
where climb
and claw ghosts of all kinds of unfortunate
natures, in spinning rags of silver smoke
cast spells I am obliged to carry forth,
either in clodpoll quarters or fancy my phallic
fingers do go dancing,

With a clawing echo calling to-and-fro from
the cleavage of my breast bone to the red wet
lips of my lover's lonely lilt, in her own
criminal intent clove to the core of her heart
with a mother's strength
while I crushed that sweet dream she
called life from her black lungs deep, no plumbed
compass felt bottom below,
she was known to dream in continuum,
in boundlessness,

Sharing this Sunday
with a coming darkness,
an exodus of the day's last luminous moments
retreating in collapsing colors of scarlet
and cinnamon, misfits in mosquito slippers slip in
a low voice tacitly into the low light lingering
signaling to the local denizens in all directions
a lonely
white man
sleeps on the open prairie tonight.

TA