Omnipotence
Gold, you know exactly
where you are. You spread
a churched distance,
you swell
with sweaty capitalism,
you beg us.
Why do we want to touch you?
Or do we want salvation?
Forget the silly trims and
accessories,
those daily ascensions
into the religion
of show and tell-
let the original
element, softer
warmer
resonate
with earth
flesh
sweet
for in the evening, when the one
sun
and its show
collapses,
we too can fall
and the sigh
the sigh
if the golden arms that catch
us
are not malleable
with love.
Somewhere, everywhere
in the sunflower fields
live moments
of joy. Nothing else
is needed. Quick,
before the late summer droop
begins
and gold gets sad
again. Quick, before we return
to gilded selves, protected
with years of the wrong
omniscience.
Rezension I Buchbestellung I home 0I05 LYRIKwelt © M.M.S.