Summer ItchA Poem by Jon MahaffieProne as it was to simply sail across, it scraped our eyes skyward, And shook our damp lids to life. This golden, old pirate coin Simmered into the early sky, We cracked open likeLightning flies, as the sun Rose and spun our wind-up backs. We stomped through the pollenous Haze, intent as a red-eyed cult To see winter slain by knives of color.
And sandwich bags, we sat Though the dawn glaze like Veterans attuned to scenic wars The sodden whisper of the past Was through, but the indelible hum Of the skin’s surface, in the naked Clutch of lawns and mud tattoos remained. Night called to air, like The cellobuzz of honeybees Or crack of splintered wood. Starlight bled through our hands, Our spread eagle fives and We read our compass of constellations As April oracles of light. They said to run. Fuel our woodfire Engines, rework the pulleys and Pistons left potent and quiet. A bittergreen night periphery Parted, into thickets and groundbrush With gazelle strides, footfall upon Golden footfall we sought the closest Cascade into space, shattering the light Upon disturbance of the surface, Diving like shards, a scintilla of Bears and crabs and twins glinting Among moppy heads in a row. We saw our souls like children, With mouthfuls of starlight And fistfuls of coronal fire. © 2023 Jon MahaffieReviews
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2 Reviews Added on September 21, 2012 Last Updated on January 11, 2023 AuthorJon MahaffieSeattle, Central Coast, Isle Of ManAbout“Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It d.. more..Writing
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