Morphine, fuming from an inner furnace,
Pumping possession; incense smoldering—
Ritual in a dish, remnants of a hollowed husk
Whose spokes spiral a vacant core.
Evince this pendulous possibility; in the sensuous
Smoke, a silhouette, a cameo in this mind's spotlight:
Overtaken, lap by milky, relished lap.
Tongues lick this stranger into a familiar.
Ghosts in the white, skin cold and free.
Concomitance in motion, lung for lung, breath for breath.
In this heathen land, wild things wearing
Your face roam at night.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for Peculiar Children
PoetryThis is a second anthology of my more whimsical and curious poems. They aren't so much for children, though anyone can read them!
