Denying our Decay
by Tom Goss
Striding through the elegance of rows of corn stalks,
distraught from your garlands of wild fury,
sometimes corn seems sweeter than fruit:
when a peacock's decorum whirls through your stormy eyes,
classically as if a lute could fly melody
and stall your whirlwind violence.
Now, the croaking of rooks belies the swift
and apalling current of a global temperature spike
as the rich walls lined with the elderly dead
bleed into your bleak and unforgiving iris.
Crumbled pillars of lined-pockets and stern
corporate violence will coalesce and liquify
into the rooted river of black tragedy
until human beings no longer bankrupt the sky.
Yet perhaps we shall wake, immaculate
as the decay of night caresses into day
and walk softly in the arena of replenished nature
where we once more breathe in communities
and watch our violence erupt and extinguish
within the confines our own, circular hands.
Posted on 11/24/2004
Copyright © 2021 Tom Goss
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/05/06 at 06:40 PM|
There are some great lines in this serious, thoughtful poem. "when a peacock's decorum whirls through your stormy eyes,
classically as if a lute could fly melody ", as is "until human beings no longer bankrupt the sky". Let us hope that your last stanza is realized.