ArchangelÂ’sTears
Yesterday, as I walked
I slowly lost you.
Lost you in the undergrowth
Of shoddy lives
Of generic medicines
And co-operatives.
You stole away,
Slipped off the gown
Of hand-drawn kaleidoscopes
And bent beats,
Running from my arms,
Slam into the distressing
Comfort of greys and insipid
Blues.
The cortex of yours
MustÂ’ve been clouded,
Selectively mired by
The blanket of energy from
Another, quite miasmic,
Yet not detailed.
And yet I await,
Thru the glass that
Wedges everything apart,
Often I scratch,
Fain to know why.
This petulance some might
Foresee, but
I fear that scene where I selfsame
And shatter another.
Call me patronising,
Deride my trespasses.
I only wish not to
See the splattered oil
From the wok of an uncooked life,
But rather the fuel,
Flasked with stentorian applause,
Bowing with grace
To the worldÂ’s substance.
It is your fork in the road,
My role merely
The keeper of your signs,
Watcher over you,
I
Remain.