Not heartburn that makes him
grasp at his chest, slyly, furtively,
when he thinks no one is looking
but surely the world is not blind
He is, maybe, or pretends to be,
to deflect the truth, reroute the magma
to burn and sputter in another channel
working its way to his surface
No, it won't be quenched by guzzling chalk,
or pickling in alcohol of myriad hues,
and a thousand shades of bittersweet,
this is acid, slow-acting, on the soul
In the window glass of dark, deep summer
a reflection bends over the table, silvered,
bathed in the light of liquid crystals
and the heat of love, redacted.
04 September 2010
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this has a lovely lovely pacing to it that adds to the dark beauty.
ReplyDeleteyou don't surprise me anymore.
ReplyDeleteYou just make me smile, and shake my head in wonder.
Brilliantly powerful Irish, and as always such a sharp use of words.
ReplyDeleteWhere ya submitting this one?!
ReplyDeleteHey, cher, Just stopping by to invite you to a great BBQ! You won't want to miss this rockin' good time. (link is on my current post) Besides, they're a little short on guys! Great poem, btw!
ReplyDeleteThe heat of love, redacted.
ReplyDeleteI've felt that burn, and you've captured it.
the way you paint it, I'd rather never love than to ever feel this pain.....razor sharp and simply breath-taking, Gumbo, thank you!
ReplyDeleteHey thanks for joining the BBQ, you are my last commenter, at least as of now. I've been doing some major blog hopping this weekend. You may have come late but you'll get out of it what you put into it, so party on!
ReplyDeleteKarenG
I like the way you work things out.
ReplyDeleteThat redacted love...it's a killer ain't it? I'm happy to say I haven't felt it in a while but I'll never forget the times I did. I just couldn't put it into words the way you do...
ReplyDelete