Hatching from the Sleeve
Free Verse
Like a mountain, love has a peak I can see but cannot fathom being there.
The hand hatches from the sleeve like a spider descending with its legs spread in the breeze that was destined. Fearful, fragile life riding on a passion. I dash off as naked as a sword after all the shallow work is done,
One hand hatches to grasp the neck-deep hilt.
One hand hatches rising up,
Twisting toward my relinquished balloon
Weaving merrily through the surrogate atmosphere, bleeding out my
Single drop in anti-gravity. Here I am escaping with it,
Fire whipping up quizzically like a squirrel sniffing and flicking its tail once excitedly, abbreviating some contemplation, commemorating a certain realization,
Predisposed by nothing in particular.
Here I am mumbling, stocking some memory of home, nervously hovering with something abused in my arms.
Like a chest pierced by arrows, I hatch rays of loving light for once in atonement. I broadcast a frightened mind if I can do nothing. My gaze is deranged and concave with reservation, premonition, pain and temptation, unsuccessful messaging. Suddenly my brain stops
And my skull shows its resolution,
Sockets gush like rocket thrusters,
Gusts as ageless as the planet earth.
