Watching Flames Inside a MothA Poem by PerditionSome days I'll visit him But never
when needed He abhors
the melting frost And when
I do I’ll watch him carefully I’ve
watched him for so many years Climbing cages and trees A barrage
of mist blanketing his way I’ve
watched him dwell in pairs of yellowing boots Sinking with the shoreline Lost in deeper hour I’ve
watched him sloth to rage The ragged jaw he wears, His shortened teeth vanishing to and fro His silent cave, Where lists of despondent words collide with breath Competing
always in constance He shrugs
knowledge like a catfish Freed
from the wormless hook I’ve watched him disappear Room passes room with Ansel’s fog Then reappears again quietly in rest Catching glimpses of his gait Leaning in a filling roar of glass The light Aching bites of chaff and smoke I’ve
watched his daze unsaddled It glows from
the crevices of his skull Where strings and fins pump out surface water In the
grim glades of occasion Doorways, always doorways Crumbling out his bones, But how
he lives is not peculiar Where he
sleeps is trite concern It's the way he bends into the sun’s gallop Flicking ashes into rain This is
what makes him the rarity And yes He will
die soon And yes Not well Perhaps as well as you or I But he
will never change his course Holding silent to the mere creases Haggling the angles in God’s charade And for this I have called him friend © 2016 PerditionReviews
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1 Review Added on February 29, 2016 Last Updated on April 25, 2016 |