does the sun set before it rises,
feather toed boys tap dance to the sun
and shuffle until the moon-dust shines
their inky white porcelain shoes to lead.
they feed from the star's mango chunks
to keep gravity from pricking their heel-
it's all they can do to keep from falling;
soft & rigid bolts of lightning plunging
into the hydra necks of the seven seas.
their only hope burns in phoenix dust
rearing a new head, day after another,
each as gently cruel as its antecedent.
or does it rise before it sets?
YOU ARE READING
CYANIDE DREAMER
Poetrysaturn rises from the valley of my neck and sets in the folds of my hell-drunken veins [ #1 in poetry, 1.25.19 ]
