Murkwater Play

And they reached for the sky
With the gilded roses of their wrinkled thumbs

Skin smooth and eyes crusty with sleep

They rolled and bounced 

Down down down 

Into the pond they believed was magic and infinite 

Where they could never drown

Where the toads leaped, one with a curse to be prince

And they reached for the sky

With the gilded roses of their wrinkled thumbs

And they tossed themselves in

Sinking down with the weight of petrified bone

They were the heroes and the villains were stone

They remained sessile to the water

All absorbed

Their saliva, their tears, the blood in their arms 

And the knowledge that everything was one

And they played and played

Until the piercing edge of the moon rose in reposte to the great insult of day

And the tides of their rhythms swayed

And their soft little heads to bed they laid 

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed