Expectation of Clarity
Holding knowledge of you, in cupped hand
like one hundred pomegranate seeds
lazily consuming each one, before
they drop through forgetful fingers
Listening to you, a collective breath of child song,
stripped from one thousand bells.
secrets bound into verse, aroused.
tangled in fables banqueting
upon the tattered edges of authenticity
Take me in or spit me out
release me, from locked box of yesterdays
a caged bird, unaware that the sky
is not there to tantalize, but to offer freedom
if unforgiving eyes dare smile
but then again, maybe you are that smile or
time bound on wrists of men
a twenty dollar bill in the hand of John
along the way, I have forgot or
have been forgotten
©2013 Carole-Lyn Catron
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