And then
the night
comes flooding
in, like
a spilled beer.

Fear is a
rabid bat;
fatally
infecting.

Loneliness is
an ice cube
in a bathtub
melt-
ing
slow-
ly.

Love is a
flat toad in
the road of
life.

Hope is a
broken dish,
an empty
pocket,
a shattered dream.

Life is a sparrow
in the cat's mouth,
an abscessed
tooth, with no
antibiotic.
It's a whale
in a frozen
ocean;
an eagle in the
city.

Insanity is
digging for the
courage to
continue
day after
day
after day.

You sleep in a golden box, it seems,
On India patterns of rose and tangerine.
The brightening sky sends amber light
Through ecru lace and lowered blinds.
I imagine your lithe limbs stretched out
Beneath the coarse blanket you love.
Your rustic side has always shied
Away from luxury and ease.
Sometimes you even refuse to eat,
So I tempt you with a favorite repast
Things meant to break unwarranted fast.
And often, I ask you to show me
Your lean limbs and boyish length.
As you poise upon the scale
That balances youth and strength.
But at night you leave our tryst
And drive a phaeton of amethyst
To a place no longer gold,
Where you make diamonds out of coal.
Where they drain you 'til day is dawning
And batter down your soul.
Yet it seems you revive each morning
In your pretty box of gold.

July, 2021