What messes we bodies nest in.
Scattered dreams all wrestling
in this touchy fevered skin--
break free! cries the nestling.

Unmended souls expect rags and tatters,
'til attached to more.
Hearts of glass deserve what shatters,
Secrets too heavy to store.

Doctors say my heart's all meat and muscle,
So stronger for the strain,
this fist-small piston of bloody bustle
won't stall in its refrain.

For love’s no dream, from which one’s woken,
But the arousing pinch, the sweet-sting pin.
And as wide as the sky, a window broken
lets more than sunshine in.

Rip now the door from the rusty lock—
Here come a breeze, small curling leaves.
The house with the long dead clock
has sparrows sing within her eaves.

What messes loves must nest in;
Warmth comes in the wrestling,
By striking hard do sparks begin
and fires need air to spring.

11/26/2007

Posted on 11/27/2007
Copyright © 2025 Laurie Duncan