On a cold day in January

I have thought a lot about ache 
of being served acai bowl
with palm fruit 
as though I have been left with no choice, 
what if my soul desires acrid 
or is accustomed to gravel in voice?

What if I desire percussion
that breaks through windows of suffering
of city dust, 
I hear you pass with recalcitrant feet 
tell me 
is it obvious 
(since I am staring in your direction)
love is a malady, a rising
a lump in the throat that we all crave.  

I took a blood carnation
all the while kneeling at my bedside
and scribbled:
“Would that this velvet affair 
with my heart thundering down 
from heights,
the fire, the heat of my poems 
similar to one high on wine and bread,
and tomorrow
there is nothing more
that this Poet in me could ever want.”


Photo credits: Pinterest

Word List: ache, gravel, percussion, city, carnation, bedside, heat, bread, poems.

Posted on Get Listed January Edition @ Real Toads


Also posted on the poetry pantry @ Poets United