Friday, March 14, 2014

Encumbered by the Noon Today

I feel encumbered by the noon today,
And no degree of winter light can pool
Within the parched, recessive vestibule
Which houses all my uncreative clay
Sufficient warmth to make the atoms play.
Am I troubled by an empire's toxic fuel?
Stupidities of corporate misrule?
By slavery and war? I cannot say.

But then I see your face, at rest upon
A pillow that the moon has made a pearl;
The candour of your gaze, the cabochon
Glimmer that you share before the dawn,
Your innocence, your love. And these unfurl
The truth of my encumbrance: you are gone.

-- Friday, March 14, 2014.

1 comment:

Mark Fuller Dillon said...

That rhyme scheme in the sestet? C, D, C, C, D, C? Never again! Once was a time too many.