This vessel is fissured so soon,

this vessel is fissured so soon.

Drowning in a field of two irises,

difficult to reconcile days with dreams,

when she inspires each and both,

like an ancient salted myth.


Muscles sail to offer protection.

Muted sirens can still lure men,

muted sirens can still lure men.

Never more willing to perish

among the fevers of summer

than when her lullaby keens.


Her skin is within the wildflowers,

pluck a bouquet for the breakfast table.

Consume her scented beauty,

consume her scented beauty.

Alongside two suns, over easy,

dipped in bitter, black morning.


Instinctively, she knew to quell

a thrashing conscience

by a stone gaze at my garden.

I was barren before those hands,

I was barren before those hands,

turned over the plutonic soil.


An apple glittered in gold artillery.

Hearts race, thickly coated in obsession.

These words are her minted breath.

My muse whispers and erects the soul.

She is this poet’s reflected echo,

she is this poet’s reflected echo.



You can also read this poem here