Stream of Consciousness #10

Standard

the armory-

god, it’s this banging

the trodden are down on their heads and are spinning

and their spindly arms are touching the spout of where the sun should be

they are clamoring up on their tip toes and shouting

like bunions on my feet are like the road smelling sweet

what a treat to hear and to eat meet and to feel beat

like it’s nothing to know no one and to feel the nothing I’ve known all along

what was the air like in December morning

in the winters and evening sun and summers you took me and kissed my flowering mouth

like a soft petal of rain in the ornery bushes?

that singing…

what is the name of my gods?

they are changing

what is the name of my god, for Pete’s sake?

you churn butter and you tore the street apart but you never listen to me when i speak,

I am just lifting my arms and my spindly legs and I am crawling out of the earth whispering like a madman

you don’t need to call me that

you can just call me mother or darling

or kiss me like you did when the world was new and we had nothing to do and I was only three (or was I two?)

and you saw the stars as they shone through

and we were too young to know why I wasn’t me and you weren’t you

we were just satisfied to be fully ourselves

but the knob on the door was mine always

and I knew that love was never just around the corner.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

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