Doubt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic
Simply,"love" is the answer...

Submitted: July 16, 2014

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Submitted: July 16, 2014

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Doubt

Yet, politic, ignorant
these burdens around the soul,
intuitional haze curled-up,
breeze down a staircase,
face to a peak.
The surprise is the tear, from the purple bruise
not realization that neutrality beats.
And through this, he mouths, "Is it snow-time?"

This white stars distillery, the sampler one see's
kindles viral purification,
as cool saline slips in, to purge indifference.
Restrained, I can not run, my eyes of dilation speak.
Ice crystal mirrors hang, murmur disastrous
frozen skeletons in grasses, stationary
but my flesh reflection.

Again he mouths, "Where are you sun?
This winter is bad
and you mysteriously left me, ditched.
Did I blink? Did they haul my eyelids up?
Where's the ice cream buckets
for this highway, triple scoops, please.
Waffle cone drips, drops of raspberry to blueberry,
I like to lick this away,
in this changeful hour,
for the warm summers are my heaven
and the heart of man has my wildflower."

The warden pronounced 12:01.
And his son said, "I should have turned away
and the trampled world did."

And like two moments,
the astounded soul
can not be between
but must empty into somewhere.

B. Garth Steinhagen


1/19/14


 


© Copyright 2019 B Garth Steinhagen. All rights reserved.

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