Night-time hunger

I have swallowed a terrific mouthful of want;
as prussian this night stretches on for miles
and beech tree’s
branches cross darkly beneath the streetlights—
my foibles, is it possible that the wind is conscious?
The yearning never stops;
sleepless, I amble through the many avenues of thought,
who are we?
Why do we continue to exist despite the conclusion of it all?
Come seize me by the shoulders;
and sift through the pieces,
some whole, some broken and some attempting to form together
to create deeper understanding—
I’d like to think
that perhaps you, sitting across in a completely different setting
are identical to me.
And though pickles are magnets for my tastebuds,
I’d rather savor the taste of what the earth’s rain has bestowed,
It’s got me speaking languages
I never knew existed before: droplets that ignite, that compel
perhaps it’s because our bodies are part water,
we can never be sure,
and so I am left alone to ponder, to envision, to believe there’s more—
I am torn between the softness of buds,
the violence of thorns
and no longer force spring, it will arrive when it arrives
but I can allow myself,
to smell its fragrance, erupting ever so slowly into the wild;
I don’t wish to be rid of this phenomenon.
For now let us linger barefoot,
naked soles on white sand as prussian this night stretches on for miles;
I have swallowed a terrific mouthful of want.

 

 

 

 

Photo credits: “Star Twins,” by Miss Pink Coconut, Digital Illustrator

Poem inspired by poetic masterpiece “Hellish Night” by Arthur Rimbaud.

Peter hosts at dVerse and invites us to write circular poems where the first and last line repeat (or are close at least) 💝

Posted for MTB: “Coming Full Circle,” @ dVerse Poets Pub