Clarity Hall

So young we're old.

So fun we're bored.

In a bright hallway

on plush pile carpet

my love's feet,

cold as

coroner's kiss,

glide closer.

Her hand strokes

my cheek

like scythes

glean wheat.

Antic Bronze

To the Queen of Carolina Circle

 Head first into the world,

 a girl crowned blonde.

 Precious and blinded by

 pointed blades of light.

 Years erase the blight.

 Bloom of hair and limbs

 ignite with youthful vigor,

 ripening life so tender.

 Time drags and adulthood

 hangs high above her reach, 

 dim as a distant star.

 Alive with dream and caution,

 years fly and ideals blossom.

 She gets to work and builds,

 hope alone won't do,

 a life to fit her best:

 Not without passionately seeking

 a helpmate to make it doubly blest.

 

 

 

Four Mile Road

Our bus cleared the overpass.

Scent of manure fills nostrils 

as gold fields flank the road

far as youthful eyes espy.

                                           Out to Pioneer: a square, sparse structure

                                           of three stories, solid as a Cathedral

                                           without ornament, featuring dully

                                           tiled hallways with water fountains 

                                           made too high for children.

In classrooms a tricolored rag 

hung over a prominent corner 

we pledged ourselves to each morning.

                                            Afterwards, from steel vents     

                                            above baseboards,  (glittering grates radiant as sin)

                                            warm fires of hell

                                            conveyed the quickened breath

                                            of diligent devils to all.

When the heat shut off

everyone, in sacred silence, knew

death's sombre polity was nigh.