She, in her warmth
Feels without question
As a cool cloth to the forehead
The solar flare she wears
Increasingly into the night
Declares darkness no longer a dread
But a mystery to move through
Past the lesser light
Back to dawn’s delight
Revolve ‘round her
Thrive with her
She, in her warmth
Would you, dear Earth, leave me to be, as I dwell ‘neath your blanket of sky
To taste, unattached by these gravities here, of our galaxy’s fervent hope cry
Relentlessly tethered, I helplessly feel that I cannot know her secret tales
Unless you calm-quietly, wait as I seek, reach, and grasp the next galactic gale!
I’ll invoke increasing ire
“How dare she,” they’ll surely declare, haughtily
“We want war — sacrifice is what she’s for!”
Cameras and courtrooms
v.
Chaos and cartoons
I’m irksome
Ironic, too, I’m told
Relationships of sinking ships
I Quit
I Quit
I Quit
Case of The Century
Grand. Beginning. Finally.
Me, at the center
See?
Evidence, surely
To believe the dawn’s story
We’re aglow again
I wouldn’tve known she wore a cross ‘round her neck
And fought valiantly to an end
Having said, “Thank you,” to the sea
That surprise-opponent-turned-friend
Would she have been allowed as many stars in her crown
If, for days, upon months, turned to years
She’d not put her pen down
To feel, then to tell — hostile witness, to interfering tears?
Pidgeon, be
Taker
Tinsel to drop
Glaring gold
Eyeing
Hazel stare, still
Caw-call
Frenzied
Words as piercings
Feather-ruffler
Careless
Couldn’t care less
Not a paper heart
Visited me, but also,
Not a ghost of lies
Comet
Come get me
Streaming, silvery
Steal me
Garland-green
Wrap ‘round me
Shed we — now, together, we
Icy un-necessities
Comet
Please take me
Sunward, bring me
Show me
Civilization dawn
Asking, I, of thee
All the while, power me
Now to my true home
What if I
Of dust, breath, and rib
Too, picked you
— Obliterated matter, and ground-bound
And breathed
Christ-like fellowship
Into you
Stood by your side
And we walked together, thence?
Know you are loved
No matter what
No matter the blurry bygone dreams for Paris
Whether withering and feeling dry-dead
Wondering what of this salt and this sea
Pensive be
Whether you love me
I love you
LisaRosier.com 