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1.
Dawn, I don't believe in god /
but I do believe in you
and the relief daybreak brings / another
night come to pass / Through the hours
I toiled / As of late, sleep outwits even
the cleverest of dreamers. What hope /
I gathered in mason jars / wanes like
candles do / spurned by dusty March.
* * *
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2.
But Dawn, I catch myself longing
for you and those April eyes.
If I could recapture that honeyed gaze,
turn her into scripture / secured by glass
of all things / there may yet be a reason
to wake up tomorrow / To enjoy / the
laughter of a star-crossed friend or /
lover, and outrun the oldest of fears.
* * *
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3.
Dawn, I don't believe in god /
but I do believe in you
and me / the sunrises we've seen. So,
come along, spring creature / bring me
and my beloved back to your door /
Home in the Gold Country / where
the sun rises early and the long night
bends / to an ever-gracious, bright lady.
—circa April, '20
YOU ARE READING
obscura; poetry for the damned & divine (part i)
Poetry"tongue obscura, forbidden thought made real. this isn't real; love but in fragments. " poems for the monstrously beautiful; for girls with too much hair and too many teeth; for bodies made of acid; for the stepdaughters and forgotten sons; for the...
