There is a hex on our time,
a popsicle melting
in the miscellany
of summer days
pooling the iridescent depths
of the lens,
each high noon startled
to deep
blue fluorescence
and fraught immemorial,
pinned like a moth
against the montane spread
of cumulous ranges.
I watch as it all flakes to motes
for the kaleidoscope.
Magnetic, I’m singed electric
on the warm mortality
of the lawn
as it shrieks like petrichor
at the ferine animal
in my gravity.
The bone-milk of skin
flaunts piebald with the dappled
print of leaves,
but within there is a seismic charge,
a lathered star
from which neither love nor limb
will be spared –
with the head of a pulsar
burning to gusts of gleaming hair
and anointed by the neutron
gods in my voltage,
these cells cannot contain me.
I love this poem. Magnetic, I’m singed electric – gorgeous!!
Thank you everyone for your comments, it really helps to have this small community of writers. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in self-doubt or apathy, but you guys keep me on my toes as well as encourage me that I am on the right path. A very significant role. Thanks again for tolerating my flagrant display of sometimes probably pretentious words. Happy new year and all that guff.
i also learnt new words. beautiful poem
Thanks Mark!
Happy New Year Sommer. I enjoyed this immensely and, like Dean, learned some new words too. Petrichor. I’m so pleased to know that word now, and even more pleased we have a word for that smell. The melting popsicle of summer hit me hardest. One question – did you intend to repeat ‘of’? Have a fab 2021.
Thank you! And yes on the ‘of’, it was sort of a poetic aesthetic experiment. In definition, the preposition ‘of’ is generally used to signify a relationship between things, I probably overused it here to be honest, but at the time I felt it was a more significant way to perform a simile than ‘like’ or ‘as’.
I just meant the of of across lines.
on the warm mortality of
of the lawn
oh yes haha! That is a typo. Thank you! This has been past many eyes, and yours were the first to catch it,
Thanks for reading Dean, brain issues can be a bit like that, but forging them into inspiration is one thing I can control!
love this: ‘…shrieks like petrichor
at the ferine animal
in my gravity.’
beautiful. learnt new words. lovely capture of sense and image and memory