stillfugue

Seething gray inches smoothly

Through big, West plates

Filled with faithful evergreens.

Morning is too soon, but

Swimming vines, gripping softly,

Simmer the stew of life.

Pliable comets of bodies of silk,

Velvety lotions of wild hormones,

Promise of a day with no other agenda,

Adoration blooming without fear,

Shaking with bright foreshadowing,

Not waiting for the blackness to

Smother and scare the gray.

Hoping explosive, calming reds of

Evening to come will fuse the old,

Broken grounds of love’s history.

Dreaming anticipation of

Cushioned, soft playgrounds to come

Will forbid unwanted guests of

Torture and hopelessness.

Knowing that hope and those

Brilliant, deep, blue eyes

Will conquer the meaninglessness.

Let her work, God, please

Let her cover me in warm chains of

Silk, comforting with blue waves.

Please let her protect me from

All of the evil, heavy swarms of

Vicious wolves who love to harm daily.