What really happens at 4 AM

 

*Image found HERE

 

What really happens at 4 AM

The Moon, a pregnant vessel
leaking its miasma
over the bog of bones;
mush, dust and forest strawberries.
Lost and found harps,
a dime for a word,
ghost inhabitet hotels
in the telephone lines.
If only a raven, a kingdom of coal
spun through his eyes,
would peck at the fingers –
applepickers, artisans: united
in their caprice
to spoon the veins into talons
claw at the heavens, kaw at the stars.
Meantime – the carbon demigods
will choke a little
on their hibiscus tea.
Meantime – the suburban yellow bus
will have an afair
with the sound the river makes
when it remembers
there are lovers finding oceans
in each other’s ears.
Meantime – we will be set on considerate fire.
In the meantime,preserve love at room temperature.
Meantime – the evangelical will snap
like a toothpick between a rotten pair of fangs.
In the meantime, perhaps somewhere in Wuyuan,
a dark haired man writes countless names
on grains of rice,
he will grow us like flowers.
In the meantime, the air, thick as flesh,
sweet as a papaya,
incurably infected with our place
and our simulcrum,
barges in like a ruffian
into your survival.

Do not worry, darling,
it is just the weight of the world
twitching your periosteum.
Do not worry, darling,
once – the night will follow
through the postern.
Do not worry, darling,
once – the dark will love us all.

*Inspired by the Wordle at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. I think I skipped a few words more than I should have, but I did find them to be images and sentiments I often use in my poetry. Do visit and join in on the prompt writing fun!