Immaculate

I yearn for words to speak
perfect skies ribbed with
silver cloud, flaming sunsets
decked in ochre-gold streaked
lilac with the breath of god, 
drenching rain cascading over
shining slates, dripping streets, 
the black and silver lights of it,
human hearts pounding
purple in the night, the glinting
eyes of us wide open and navy, navy
thinkings; I yearn for pure green peace
stretching past my wish to reach it, 
the thrill of limbs so highly 
charged they outspark themselves,
spirits climbing in crescendo like a
host of blushing roses in the dawn,
big lemon dreams of doing and
striving to be more than we are -
our scarlet lives coursing 
now, this minute, forever -
immaculate in our hands.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem