Friday, November 26, 2010


The pomegranates split open
Anticipating the coming rain
your soft eyes smooth razors into river stones

the words overexerted, as juveniles of masterful predators   
molting zealous carapaces, carried for far too long 
still fragile, cautiously inflating their wings

the morning’s lustful bite
taking away the fangs we were born with
treasured, if only for an instant

an iron core eroding in fragments of confetti
scattered in the wind over jagged terrain
where we will soar in time

as the molten begins to shed
condensing into an alloy of sorts
that knows of no limitations

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