PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The seed from the lens of God falls
from above and the rain’s claws
become old songs scratching
against stained panes of a glass vice —

I am only briefly touched
and lifted out of myself in a tweezers clutch
My ant-body separates like oil and water
leaving me to bleed a rainbow and swirl

Curling like a singed strand of hair, the fingers
of conch wombs let go, let me dilate in the wind’s arms
Sand melts me crystal clear and the ache is gone—

My welt-red newborn memories gasp in the dark for air.