Tutelage of Me

Gazing past you

Seeking solace in the wint’ry blue, that I might not be forced to look at you

Attempted diminisher

Before your tutelage of me, recall
Blank pages you were
Poor and lonely were you

Now, you’ve your green

What I was born with, you have stolen and will die with, you pray
But, we know what we know

As does God

Bad Fantasy

What the dust

My front doorstep littered
In layers of bravado, force-fields
And might

As if the guardians decided
My heart, prone to thieving
Had stolen their swords
Then taken their jobs

So they quietly left in the night?


I know

I am nothing


Mere smashed-up, shattered pottery

An impermanent cup, long since buried

Serving as drainage

For your pretty backyard garden flowers

Then when I finally drink

From the cup that is not shattered

The cup that matches yours but is intact


See I am the mosaic labyrinth in you


The nutrients, light and sweet rain for you


The height and beauty of you


The reason they wish to pluck you


The breath-stealing scent of you