I’ve missed too many sunrises

Eluded the watercolor remix
of the daily show.
And where are the smooth stones
that once tumbled through my thought?
I would hold one, seated heavily,
solid in my hand.
I would toss it past the green palms
fanning the sky.
I would put my feet in the river;
let the currents pull away
the parts of me that have loosened -
shreds of skin,
teeth and bones.

Instead I breathe into my heart
to ease its pain.
Let pastel light daub the concave relic
where love is sequestered.
And I call upon the dominions
to bring me back into life
on this day I have forsaken.
Place my hands upon the table -
outstretched, empty,
beseeching.


© 2003 Melissa Songer