baby in the crib, turns closed eyes into dream-light
young boy at the window, eyes on the calf
woman with the cow, flies milling around the eyes
1.
every morning, with a penchant for rising before his hour
he stands, sees the calf at the wooden-fence
watches with the fawn-coloured beauty of sea-shell heartbeat..
the rising-eye
while his sister, nearly a young-woman, washes dishes with eyeballs
out the tiny-window
heifer passes by and he looks straight into eyes – gentle eyes –
soothes calamity
2.
in the cold morning on the farmstead, the baby curls in its warm-folds
she chases off the flies from the horns
and cleans gummed-openings
yet deity’s crown falls from splendour this day
as moments devoured by need eventually bear witness
to warm dripping in the sand
the bowl is filled
*(high-scale horror)
and the boy has seen it, too
he holds his arms round him to stop the wholesale-shaking.. bites down hard
as his face contorts baleful.. in impotent-anger
his silence bought decades ago.. in another life
no price on his shock
and the bird on the branch flies off.. glint-eyes on another branch
it’s that time once again: she takes the old-cow to town
they await her before nightfall
she never does return
3.
I’m begging you
leave it be, this is how it is
go pick up the baby, please
(the baby won’t stop crying)
your fences, I’ll rip up your fences with your very own whip
while them wolves howl on and on
I got oppressive-time to suffer your unmatched-law in the crush-of-daylight
now, kindly.. get outta my face!
S T – 22 Jan 2014
A day.. is a day is a day.
sub-entry: one day
it ain’t so far away.. one day is just the day
after this
see it.