Tuesday, January 31, 2017

PoppyRead



like a raisin in the sun
it has dried the nectar of
my psyche

shriveled soundtracks 
of my life echo their 
existence

whitewashed walls and
Sunday morning blues dance
before my eyes

the dirty decayed laundry
lists of my animation
are seen

weeds have crept into the
darkest places of 
my being

moonstone paths contain
weeds sprung by 
bitterness

i have been both the flower and
the meadow as my soil
has been tilled

mountain of my brow holds
the remnants of my blood
sweat and tears

scoring life's surface as maize
colored memories signifying Egypt’s
dead spurs my mass exodus

judas friends have fell to the side
remembrance of poppy
mother to her seed

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