Thursday, April 8, 2010

The soundest restlessness, the cinnamon

The soundest restlessness, the cinnamon
by Gideon Burton

The soundest restlessness, the cinnamon 
reprieve along the length of shining hair, 
the sugared punctures more than time could bear 
and yet my sleep an animal to stun 
toward the opening, a melted gun, 
a compromise, the stock to split its shares 
regrouped in random bunches, won’t we stare 
a moment longer in the purpled sun? 
I cannot track the beating, not the blood 
or bread or crumbs of resolution, not 
the sylvan sluices trebled in the shade 
defacing tired tracks in grainy mud. 
I’ll commandeer a khaki-colored cloth,
a chance to rub my thumb along a spade.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - webtreats

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