City in Bloom

Just a thought, growing.

There are so many moons
that are made from my hands,
but the latticed blue town smashes all
my sweet plans down to sand.
Some rosary cheeks say it's easy
for me, swallowed knee-deep at the end
of a gutter, but I'll drain myself
from myself, I'll keep collecting leaves
at my feet, pick 'em and frame 'em
in old jars high up on the shelf.
They are more me than me, untouched
and admired by those who like
when something dying is saved
from its fate, placed out of reach
indefinitely, so I sit next to them
on the shelf of this dark flower you call
a "city."

My feet dangle with my eyes
over the jagged, melodic mountain.

You can see me from this view
tracing lines along the hills, hiding
wrongs under rights, painting shadows
for luminescent eyes. City in bloom, where
do you hide me? There is no rock
left unturned, no hole without
dim light casting glances into rooms
where worms dance. Nothing is left
to rot peacefully. Emptied onto dirty
streets, sleeping under twisted sheets,
I'm going to love you until
I can never go home again.

Reviews

[Talal Hussain]

The last few lines are beautiful...loved it :-)

[Pryde Foltz]

Emptied onto dirty
streets, sleeping under twisted sheets,
I'm going to love you until
I can never go home again.

You capture the listlessness of the heart set area eloquently. Loved the these last view lines gave an exquisite wind up.

[p.kuhl]

Thank you for the kind review, Ms. Foltz!