Photo Challenge # 98: February 2, 2016

“Mate” by Anne Worner CC BY-SA 2.0

 

In the inconstant ravages of midday

I drink of your succulent greys,

of your endless repetitions.

Winning accounts for only a fraction

of our experiences, we lose everyday.

I stand here challenging my failures,

the pawn of my genius watered down.

I will not be made palatable.

I will not be made to adhere.

The only geometry worth the commute

is the human heart. Those slovenly angles

really get me going, even now

in this wrangling heat, the muse seizes hold

shaking me free of my rumpled dress.

–

We were young once, too young

to appreciate the distress of bones

huddled beneath orgasmic flesh.

Too young to know the intimacy

imposed by silence. I love you

in ways both innocuous and forbidden.

I’d kill for you, an oath not undertaken lightly.

We only seem casual, ordinary

but on the inside we are slicks

of versicolored gasoline, ready to ride

the circuitous waves of our ever deepening

sense of self. To truly understand life

you’ve got to jettison your identity entirely.

I will not be tagged, stacked, and sequestered

by your quadratic pretenses, the I before am

is completely unnecessary, be for nothing

else matters, not even the reward.

–

cutting it close time-wise barely managed a quick poem.

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