Tuesday, 2 May 2017

day 18

i'd turned from silk to steel
serenity lost her appeal
so it seemed

i rummage in the temple
the monk kneels by a cherry tree

the monkey on its perch
haranguing me
i am performing
i care not for hecklers at the church
especially not for furry ones

but within I shrivel at the thought
as i sneak through gates
iron wrought
one mind, no regrets
i cast these moral onions out
like a father would a pack
of cigarettes
the wall is at my back
past satin curtains
embroidered (with strange words in latin)
on a gaudy pedestal
the finest golden lute
inlaid with shells and pearls
next to it, a silver flute

i sit now on the stone
ochre radiance in my arms
i can feel it in my bones
im getting old

i pick a string despite
the secrecy
it takes the very best of me
not to chant out
to the monastery
the curtains or the cherry tree

it whispers back to me
beckons me

and we break out in dance
a one step, two step, three step
my head is spinning now
this resonance in my soul, how?

and the monk kneels by a cherry tree

No comments:

Post a Comment