Star Child

Words of lime, mouth of ginger;
tongue of ice, throat of water.

Powder the sun
a dizzy mellow.

The rain drunk stiff,
the street comes softer.

Salty rays on an open eye,
inverted scales of concept
dim to blind
and in twilight of state
citrine twirls opal
on glassing sky map.

Blacken the drum.
Fade keys.
Or else, fall a season below
and cup flower there.

But sweetening the grit in the eyes,
the clock-hands wind around the head
grapevine wire in stray thought
at the base of a succulent crown.
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