There was a time
When the ticking went slowly
And by and by
It funneled and dropped
Into the glass
With soft curves
Around it to cup and hold

The flute bent
Inward between it
And up with
Chrystaline delicacy aye

See through it clearly
Though it would fog
As if an imperfect stone

As if it’s imperfection
Time and the rest of it
Would shatter the glass
From high pitched
Stir crazy
A ****** scream aye

Have gathered it up
And spooned it
And swallowed
The black berry

Have drank a fine mix
Of the sand turned finely powdered
Sugar and the bite
With apothecary talent
Combined and swished aye

Spit the sand to the killing floor
Keeping the rest
Keeping the stain on my lip
To kiss and ******
To earn the fondling
To trample the dead
With fairy feet aye

Have tip toed a magic
And dark wing
Have nurtured fantasy
But it never took aye

Have wept onto the hot forehead
Of the lost boy
And pressed my fingers to his cheek
To feel for fever
With no real grasp of any cure
For the Peter Pan lust
And watery pools
Shining his eye

I must remain for myself
In this
With naked toes
To tread the muddy edges
Of the holler and down
The banks of **** and squish
The water up into them
Until I can dip them in

And have a love affair
With the moon
As it strokes itself
Onto my body
My back cooled by ancient sands
Aye

Will stare him in his eyes
And remember the faces
The cherub cheeks
Spread with smiling
And the laughter
That escaped from them