Spot of Time

Borrowed in a spot of time
The birds see me and whistle
A flamboyant tumble weed
Loud flower, thorn, or thistle
Painted fuchsia to deceive
Protected like the treasure
Pricks my finger now I bleed,
Turn mute but all the deafer

Take me nature, I digress
Rain is only permanent
Each petal reads love me not,
I have loved the time I caught.

soiled sober

Hands!
Unclean hands!
Unclean hands of those
Full of drunkenness
And unsobreity
Hands unclean with sex and lustfulness
even too treacherous to sink into the Inferno,
Seventh layer…
Those fingers composed of sex and intoxication
Touch my skin
My shoulder freckles
But… I….
I am so pure that dirty hands do not stain me.
I simply clean them.
I cannot be tainted but they can
Be
Sobered.
Worry not, I will make them drunk again.
My words like drugs,
My lips addictive.
Bitter nicotine in my
Poetry and out of my mouth that alcohol
Oh, how it is that I am.
So pure.
Permanently sexless.
Crawling
From
The Inferno
Cleaning you
Along the way.
Almost bleached,
Like my heart when you touched it.

Originally published in the 2014 FACETS at the Butler County Community College.