Occupy Poetry

The blood of a stone

BY James Piehl

Knotted into the hard knock reality
I found that we converged like like-poled magnets
pushing each other away
So fiercely I braided a rope,
Breaded a trail into the forest
to find you
and hardened the moonlight into a tattoo
The silhouette of your embrace
is a culture I need to learn
The inevitability of time waxing
Well canvassed and oiled
Painted into a brilliant mockery
I attain the only brace I have ever known
but the memory of your lips
slaps the pulse inside me into a crescendo
of drum work
Worm-worn, -eaten and warmed
by the realism of ice melt
I made myself Spring for you
and you cared less as I changed into what you ask for
in the vespers of your dreams
where I heard you whisper and the psalm of your soft breath
gilded me there
The only difference is you lie to yourself
to get into trouble
and I use those lies to buttress the argument
Our only arrangement
has always been professionally polite
Which stitched an ache right into the loneliness
that tethers these wings to the ground
Staked right through the heart of the matter
is the fact that your wings were broken so violently
so tying my wings down
became your labor
All through the temporary façade
a falsehood made you stronger
because I would not break you down
So instead I mended an amendment
to cradle your busted bones back to full health
and this is the only water I have left
to quench your thirst


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