by Blue Harrison

Created on: April 15, 2009   Last Updated: June 30, 2009

Assumption

If angels exist, they are male
and unbridled in their response

I fell to straw, inhaled the death of
once newborn grass and melded

Convinced that ice would never search these strands
sure that frigid would pass by, uninterested.
I fed myself into blades released my gloss to brittle
In the name of flight {spoon-served}, in observance
of something deemed beyond my mortal hands.
You never promised sunrise and simpatico;
only reaching for the green preceeding gold...

And I, I could see nothing beyond wings,
those stirrings of stagnant currents too long in tow.
I perceived resurrection, opened to your winds
with feathers lengthened from fragile stems.

But perception failed...

in prolonged silence, in unreturned kiss.
Condensation reigned swept my light into abyss
while the moon caressed the solemn whispers of
expectations unmet.

My curves crawl...
into the darker unlimits of shadow
and you...
You comfort your wick, the burn of mandarin
unable to descend to my level;
disturbed by hoary air that surrounds

Beauty once beheld under August sun.

All seasons come around...
And you my love, will know the grin
of November closing in, while gentle June
sails across distant oceans; promising

her jewels to more adamant swells.

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