A leaky faucet.
I wrap my hands around it;
the moment seeps out
through my suspicions.
I clench my fists and try to contain it.
It still drips.
A flush of rose - a shade of ivy,
entangle to form a grey.
Concrete grey.
A conglomerate sludge, slithering
like half-hardened lava.
As the flow begins to form around my thumb
I forget from where it was drawn.
I discover the sun giving shape to shadows,
realizing it is as far away
as the thoughts that now clasp my hands together.
I feel Apollo forming around my left pinky,
and glance down to find Daphne's bark hardening
like basalt in the sun's reflection. He reaches
a marble hand around to brush the leaves from her breast
feeling her warm heart still beating underneath.
The sink now a pedestal, I marvel at creation,
my hands interlaced from hardened memories--
a miniature Bernini.
My own rigid entanglement
to divine upon until time's end.
(c) Joshua Biddle
No comments:
Post a Comment