BETRAYAL

The sun opens his mouth and speaks

with salt words scorched from the sea

and has not yet said all he knows about

that.

He speaks red tomatoes to my garden and

yellow to the dandelions in the yard;

he surprises my bones with

ice.

I have read his words on the damp underside

of rocks I picked at random from dry ground.

I have caressed the inner thigh of a rose to no

avail.

His voice is the wind and I am salt

scorched from the sea

my bones are ice. I can feel them

melt.

Reviews

[Ms claws]

@Vol, you always make the tiny hairs on my body stand at full attention!
Sun speaks with salt words scorched from the sea! I love that!
This entire poem is just epic!
I like to see if I can write after a few sips like Bukowski.
This reminds me of some of his work after a sip or two... absolutely genius!
Sorry to compare...I just try to think of the best and you are one!
Awesome, sir.

[Thomas W Case]

Tremendous work, my friend. Powerful.