poetry
The Sun Lives in my Ceiling (2023)
The sun lives in my ceiling
It is cold, and yellow, and pale
My friend, my family, my lover, my ego
Without you, my life is staleI trim the carpet because the grass has grown
To my knee’s height, O’ artificial light!
The sun hums like a bird
Buzzes like a bee
You blink (flicker), sometimes, at meI swing across the bunk, from tree to tree
Prune my nails with teeth as I watch TV,
Spit the trimmings on the rug below my feet,
And the sun still lives in my ceiling.My hair is flayed
Gone were the days
Of that short bob and pixie cut
The clippings do nothing but pile up
“I think I should mow the lawn,” I say.
“But didn’t you do that yesterday?”You never stop shining,
Never stop smiling
Never complain, or cry, or call
Turn on.
Turn off.
Day on and off,
Until, no longer, could you stay“You belong to me, O’ sun in the ceiling,
You belong to my heart and soul.”There is no world but mine, but me
I beg, I pray, stay another day
Flicker and fade
The glass is cold
Incandescent, you are no moreThe grass won’t grow,
The night has come,
The birds can’t sing,
And the bees won’t buzz,The sun once lived in my ceiling,
And there’s no one else to blame,But me►►►The Grave Beneath Autumn and Winter (2023)
I close my eyes and lie
In ground beneath Autumn’s gaze waiting
For the sun to set behind the trees
That freeze in the crispy breath of Mother Nature’s
Cruelness.This melancholic nostalgia for a future
I dare to hope to see with my own two eyes,
Provided, I am allowed to keep them wet
With the biting tears that prove to the world
“I am still here”I am buried six feet beneath the earth under
The warm reds and browns of fall leaves-
Please. Don’t leave me here alone
In the dark, this frigid daylight Mother dark where
The white owls woo and the silver doves coo and the foxes-
Oh, the foxes, and their shrill barks
Of the trees and the rats and the fleas
Sinking their teeth into my fleshHow I wish I could have been loved like that.As the fleas love the rats who are so in turn,
Loved by the foxes, who is so loved by the hunter
Who so hunted me down a babe in the wood
From the log cabin indented with the stench of chimney smoke
Scorching the wilderness where I once ran free.And as I watch the blaze of the sun
Of man wash away his sin,
I can only dream of the loving, numbing cold
From my grave beneath Autumn and Winter.
