Uszka

Around you

these clouds have meat

suspended in blood red skies

sunset spooled

to rolling boil

of fermented firmament cooled

catches the back of my throat

with suspended heat

of sorrow

where these words

of unspoken passion

settle waiting on the marrow of morrow

settle thick and sticky sweet

and taste somehow of home

these clouds have meat

condensed

soaked heavy with memory

with diluted blood

crying distilled

in which they sail the sky

dreaming of full lips to call their own

and a wistful tear

raindrop clear

on a cheek bone

high

Rick Dove (c) 2016