Eight Summers

flaming for a change
in the pocket of a debutante
over all her limits
still alive and nothing's changed.

but she wrote me a novella
about a boy and a dog and the country life
and she bragged to her sisters
that i read it at length
and breadth
height and width
and how it makes her feel
when she falls asleep with empty hands
and awakes holding a lilly.

she loves me in the candle mass
and the slow surrender of fairy dust
as the cooling change that must go without name
makes waves on the hair of her innocent head
as her moonlit wings
soft cool white open spread
and the mist of air leaves a vacuum of dread
for she sleeps alone in that open land
as i sit and wish she was with me instead.

slowly taking out to sea
to burn suspended articles
and a year of engagement
to sea to burn to find forgiveness
and please would you prorate my soul
and please would you find me a nice quiet hole
to sleep and be free with my darling lover
to stand and be proud beside her for eight summers.

proud to make a change
in the blanket of our universe
over all my limits
still aflame and nothings changed.

but i built her a small cottage
inside a yard in a town in a country life
that we share with two horses
who we follow all day
and night
through the pines
and how it makes her sing
when she flies away on foreign winds
and slides home on her own rainbow.
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Sep 11, 2012