Yellow Moment

This stemmed from a writing prompt and an night of tearful expunging. I hope it makes sense to you all.

A Yellow Moment

Brick clay crack, a sun stroke path

Melted the fragile furnace of rose hips

Chilblain lips

She savored the timely residue of his arrival

Pollen from a swollen sting.

Crater-star, Boy,

You promised the unwearied shine of thirty energy-saver incandescents. 

Her eyes recoiled from the warm blight

Of stubborn seed and chloroform. 

An empty peel the remainder of the cold promise of long-awaited

Heat.  

Muddied, sullied, somnambulance of self-pocketed pawn

Rest in his hand, curled

Until roots spread in fingers

Not unlike yours

Until debts unfurl before a chance of skin

Not unlike yours.

Sulfur from the alchemist lingers,

Charred oil onto frothy plain.  

Reviews

[Brooke Wake]

Chris, if you want to say something mean, whatever. Poetry is subjective. Everyone can have any kind of opinion about one poem.

[Chris]

I almost said something mean... I apologize because that isn't what I am about.

I'm prolly too tired or numb to follow your train of thoughts - and THAT isn't your fault. You expressed yourself and I tried to follow your lead. You take care.

Chris

[Ms. Gruye]

I like how you have mish-mashed images and statements. It feels urban and yet fantastical. well done.