The Wheel of the World

Two poems that I wrote for creative writing:

“The Scourge”

With twisted colors of

bloodied  majesties and painted rivers,

you reach out with your charred

fingertips in the rippling threads-

your veins pulse a

rhythm I used to know.

You do not shed those tears

but pull and scrape

mine out from under me

raw

            and flowing

like the words that pooled

from your tongue-

they were scarlet songs

raw

            and flowing

as the rose that wooed

my spirit-its

petals dripped of ignorance

by my bedside

raw

            and flowing

you pushed and pushed

until I was no more than

a hazy canvas

raw

            and flowing

down, down until I

did not recognize

myself in your image.

raw

            and flowing

Your Loopy Signature

swirling watercolors shimmy

and glide- they are as free as a puddle

            jumping, splashing

letters to my doorstep

where the toaster rings,

my telephone is a statue-

chiseled faces of the ones we’ve lost

in the sunburst of

milky pastels, light

up our heartbeats

they gulp in tandem

like two petals of that same

            heart shape

                                    comma

            your loopy signature