Lethonomia

Words, letter beings, inch toward my eyes

June wildflowers  and bequeathed blossoms grow and die

I am, the anomaly —  arrested, high above the ionosphere  and beyond whatever he would have me be,

The sun bends in its idyllic arc —  no rush, except to change the light skinned and hearted,  the unguarded, to a different shade of pale.

Stay for a lightning strike, a love’s dissonance too bright to refuse.

In all, I am as compliant as comely, though you would say pliant as a liar,  prone to misdirection.

Trust, like family can pass into the afterlife, through the tip of a blade.

The disrespect of life is life itself —  other people, scrabbling as much in the dirt, as to be free from it.