Muse of Honey And Applesauce
Muse- I want to see you wearing barrettes
In Paris-
Alma- rings of golden satellites between brown
Knuckles-
Warm sweet kisses underneath broken school
Busses- Alma-
Warm sweet places, like hot clay in
Art class- and easels waiting in the broken
Monuments of honeysuckle daylight
With saw horses underneath open hearts:
The way the wilderness waits across the canal
For you- Alma,
To step into the crepuscule of the burning sugar canes
At the dead ends of suburbia,
To leave the senses to go to sleep behind you,
And to start our barefooted, your feet
The size of toy boats, as you exhilarate the heavens
And pull them down to examine your own heavens-
And they see the truth to your passivity,
As the canoe lays tinkered up to the bank, underneath
The holly you left behind
Being given little kisses to its throat my tadpoles
Whose only hope is for metamorphosis
To join with your heavens- to bask across the
Fields who grow rich in the antediluvian things that
Evolve in your longing classrooms-
They follow you- muse, as you go leaping,
Caramel- muse of honey and applesauce-
Like bright sunlight underneath the moon.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
