Like the Sphinx
Like the Sphinx
Igor lies regally
With eyes closed off
To the world.
He finds his zen
And feels the breeze
But knows not how much
He is revered.
Like the Sphinx
Igor lies regally
With eyes closed off
To the world.
He finds his zen
And feels the breeze
But knows not how much
He is revered.
Along the way
Birds whistle a tune
As if to set a mood
But I know not what to say.
The figure slowly thickens
In the distance;
My heart beats fast –
My gait quickens.
From a dry rut
He approaches
And opens the conversation
One eye shut.
A swirl of amaretto
Revolves in my coffee -
Like a galaxy -
Shimmering and slow.
Dawn is utterly quiet;
Moon beams - thin and long -
Cleave to the flooring
Each protracted moment.
After making love –
I lay my head upon your chest
To hear your heartbeat;
You are delicately built
But wonderfully alive.
Your skin is like satin
Draping across my fingers
As a blanket would but better;
Let me lay in your warmth
'Til the evening's end.
Jesus stole him from me;
A cleft of my heart went
With my beloved to grand company.
Shock distracted the void –
Grief befriended melancholy
And I tagged along, I admit.
Anger pulled – whispered of mortality –
I regroup my senses
But still, it finds me.
Thank God, forgiveness was created
For also this exigency.
Weeds as tall as children
Partially hide the dusty windows.
A long silence hangs
Where once promise echoed.
Broken glass fills the street –
Glittering like emeralds
To some – to a majority –
Proving their travails.
How capricious it is
To follow the tail of a comet
And skip across Saturn's rings -
To wade in endless streams -
Cloaked in ether's blanket
Of midnight fantasies -
Where I've other lives -
I'll never completely tell of them
But to the Pleiades.
The Sahara is another vast sea
Of zero-edge horizons
And remote hours of austerity
For "sailors" upon caravans
And the Sun beams mercilessly
And seems cruel to patrons
Until the Wind scoffs haggardly
And reshapes its art of dunes.
Ample is the rising sun
That alights the furthest mountain –
A carmine drape upon every hill –
Exciting the birds to warble.
Ample, too, is the evening sun
That paints a nebulous curtain –
Quickly changing the palette until
Bringing the good day to shutter.