lemon

The letters are laid in front of my nose
a swift touch can create a word
and yet I cannot create such a thing
why the long face?

The h is in the lights
and the draft is in the wind
and the poem is in the head of my mind
and it won’t release because there is no lyric

and I saw a terrible sunrise
it shuddered me to the bone
white and raw
the over growth of a tree
and the ride out to sea

judgement of the old loves
the old loves and the lines of your face
the book of ancient sorrows and peaceful religions
my hand is not yours
but that bread was mine

perhaps it would seem more beautiful
if it was scribed into the sin of a tree
and yet it wasn’t
and yet I wish it was

how can a piece of paper leave a shadow?
Is it not the same width as a beam of light
forget rhyme
lose the rhythm and replace it with fresh
ripe lemons and a glass of tall clear
spring water

I will cut the lemons and squeeze them into the water
I will watch the chunks of lemony juice dribble
into the water and expand
and leave at the top a bubble of joy

what a soft unbearable touch can such
a person give
and what a gruff unbearable hunch
can a person have

forgive me dear one, I try I try I try
but I can only try so much before I crumble and cry
if you want
if you want
I’ll make you a paper mache dove
with a heart on its wing
and I’ll make it with love
what a silly childish gift you say
well I do things that way

and the lemons will shine and glow in the sunlight
the afternoon sunlight that I appreciate the most
and I’ll place the lemons in between my teeth and burn their walls down
I’ll burn your walls down too
but I won’t foresee your expression so blue

this is yet the longest I have wrote
of such things that mean so little to me
and yet so much to the truth of you
a piece of ceramic on a string
with your sign and your creature
what a pretty little thing, yes?
I made it for you
I made the trip just for you
don’t look to the soul I don’t want
look at the soul I see
and I’ll smile to that soul tenderly

my flowers were five feet tall
they grew from my skin
my wrist and bloomed
and they signified a general reprieve
from the moonlight I bathed in
and it burned my skin with power
and strength
and dreamland whims

I will cut the lemons and squeeze them into the water
I will watch the chunks of lemony juice dribble
into the water and expand
and leave at the top a bubble of joy
and I’ll drink up
and sear my teeth with acidic love
such purity