by Holly R. Appling
organic are these star crescent
metrics, like a halo into a hereafter
or revelation of past lives, they
survived time as a flesh chameleon –
on earth they are roses first,
stems walk through desolation past
stark forests and swamps where
fires on the water still clarify
a constellation in silvery mist –
the roses are mostly quiet…
if you listen they illume secrets.
nostalgia and want are watered
in stone pots set in a sunspot –
on the porch an embryo stares
from the edge of an ocular,
beyond the property’s locked gate
a mute wound ticks and listens.
liberty seems a kind dream,
at most an uncertainty in hope -
a bittersweet comet shrinks
across its sizzling sky orbit –
it fades among the music
to nothing at all, the pulsar
radiates below in shadows.
© 2012 Holly R.
Holly R. Appling lives in Canada. Her poems have appeared in various print and online journals. More of her writing is at www.hollyappling.wordpress.com.
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