Dining of the Hungry and the Full

Color me in Cyanide and Cherry


Image found HERE!

Dining of the Hungry and the Full

The serpent
wears our clothes
and sheds the skin
to mend the symptoms
of the euthanasia,
droplets fresh and moist –
a sea of prickling salt
gives a place to drowse in
as the envenomed chrysalis
metamorphoses and sews
a threnody of pain
for a daisy plucked in confusion;
I have slept through
the un-seaming
of the Sun
into a nocturno,
waiting for Lady Justice to weight me
like a leaf of Autumn.
Asking the veins romancing the flesh
What is the bruto
of the honeycomb
behind the lung?
When your ribcage is my prison
and I rattle the bars
in Morse code;
a seeming improvement
of my previous self
that was an armless mime.

I have you
and I have you not,
like a game
of peons under masks
and self-inflicted scars,
like blades pointed upwards
on our palms

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