Three Oranges
Three oranges on a big round wooden table by daylight
I peel their skin away
the air is
rind and juice, mild & pungent sweet.
Tiny
imperfections to their skin,
leave
shadows of self reflections —
One is a dark brooding blood
orange,
a sealed shut mouth and a pirates’ patch eye.
That was the feeling when he was happy.
By 4:00 a.m. this is a Niagara of
darkness.
I can stand on the small table in salt rain
& listen to eternity wind down.
Reaching out, I can touch the elegant wolf statue with it’s yellow eyes —
The ritual at four in the morning: the wolf, then vanishes in the
forest
In the morning the small painted faces on
the drops of morning light —
is what we carry into
the forest of our night.
Eddie, these lines jumped right out and bit me in the face!
ReplyDelete"By 4:00 a.m. this is my Niagara of darkness and grief.
I can stand on the small table in salt rain
& listen to eternity wind down.
Reaching out, I can touch the elegant wolf statue with it’s yellow eyes —
It was a gift to a son.
Noah is here ritually at 4 in the morning: facing the wolf, then vanishes in the forest"
In the morning the small painted faces on the drops of morning light-
what we carry into the forest of our night."