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White-knuckle

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Summary:
Little prequel for the Good Friday/Easter poem I plan to post this weekend. Not a fan of Christmas, but I can get into Easter....

Break to see or flee for shade
by a gawk of Sun
on white-knuckle days

pray for time to breathe & plea

this all-wet phrase
carried
somewhere on the breeze

under the shovel
of encroaching
sweat detail

over the rainbow
to surrendered
dusk relief

slipped through cracks
to callous fists
and redacted lists

cooked with looks
so spoke through smoke
from a knife skin cloak

whisper-scraped
in garbled flux
of gilded lies
following whys

borrowed eyes
on the prize
transmuting earth
from air to gold

filtering flesh
with fluid mind

as scrying hands
keep heart & soul

aching free to greet this fate
by a hawk of Sun
in white-knuckle daze

lay the ground a break & see

this old, dry buzz
buried
deep inside the breeze

 
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