SUNDAY POEM
ELEGY
When I bend and bind
squeeze my soul into narrow shoes,
deck it out in gaudy hues
of other people’s clothing;
when I alter my inherent shape, strut
through attenuated alleyways of dialectic,
I lose you, crumble. I know
you are in me but I cannot reach you
in the rubble of my ignorance.
Such loneliness engulfs me
then, not all the soft-voiced friends, sultry
gongs of lust and wine assuage.
I am orphaned,
a lover bereft, a leather-shod beast without
breath, a vast homesick wail
in the wilderness.
I am homesick.
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As always, I’d love to hear your poems in Comments. Let’s celebrate the poetry of our hearts together.
