Kill the stem, heavy with petals.
Such a bright face lit from within
Decaying, day by day.
So delicious the voice I crave.
Warbling with doves, wallowing with swine.
The scraping of mud from shoes, your echo.
Ticket stubs litter the ground with half your name
And the light bathes you in glory and shame.
The dank smell of sweat, my tears to your eyes.
The spotlight drops and your smile follows
A crowd becomes a single sneer and that smooth skin ruptures.
But you have your dignity that you left with the man backstage.
A glint of light passed me
purchased, plucked dainty
God was speaking and I was ducking.
Soon the light would fade into the Devil
and his voice would creep
unwanted into every crevice of the land.
With every passing moment I’ve gained
a handhold. A slippery grasp of
hope, that elusive argument of the sophist.
Neither the blinding light of heaven, nor the hollow
of hell’s scheming will offer more oil to the mix.
I will never soak my future, with the bilge of my past.