deepundergroundpoetry.com
All-Sacred Yields
Some days I crave to shed this skin
from contretemps I wallow in.
Extirpate, and then peel them off.
Compile a pore-pile, loss by loss..
Into the water-
toss. toss. toss.
Next comes me..(the bone, in sauce.)
Of all those massive fleshy links.
(a twisted skein of water-sink)
I choke 'em down, drink by drink,
so full now, I brush on brink.
I toss in shame and that pile grows,
as puddle becomes a waterhole!
I tread currents, kicking with haste..
(a managed gulp, that salty taste)
Angry water starts to overtake..
And then? Eyes light upon your face.
~Under me fast, to cradle calm..
strong-armed grace, where I belong.
You remind me of all that Was-and-Is.
Secreting my mishaps, hydrating me on wish.
This time though? It goes down so smooth
like dark whiskey, on midnight soothe.
Prelim burns, a slam to core,
tending wounds- my sad, my sore.
My stomach rockets, I rejoice..
All-Sacred yields, within your voice.
Published 16th May 2015
| Edited 21st Jul 2015
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