Floating Houses

Floating Houses

 

 

Too many books piled along my arms’ columns -

air-borne houses, ruins wandering the desert.

The check-out queue is long. Too many customers

wait ahead of me. I mark time. Beyond the ropes,

my wolf stalks. He yawns, and the abyss of his jaws

opens at my feet. The fault I must fall into widens.

 

Sand shifts.  My legs tremble. I close my eyes to hold

the outer darkness off. Through wind-strummed leaves,

words no one speaks, whisper, The next voice you hear

will belong to the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

 

Yes?  My eyes open. Dappled yellow light shimmers

above his chiseled frame, lean as rustling aspen.

A cashier I have never seen, waves me to his register.

When I walk across the wolf’s gaping maw, Yes,

he jokes about my standing dumbstruck, kids the ballast

of printed Babels,  transfixing me where I stand.

 

We laugh,as walls crumble,

falling from my hands across the counter

to the floor. And though I know our paths will never lead

beyond the credit card I'll give him, or cash receipt

and bag he’ll hand to me 

 

but, for this moment, I may

linger here, quaking in the solace of his sun-burnished

leaves, soughing, Yes, before they fall.

 

Reviews

[zainul]

Wonderful write.
Introduced me to many new things.
I have to read it again for the pleasure reserved into its lines.
Thanks for sharing.

[rubie]

Thank you for your kind words.

[zainul]

You are most welcome,dear poet.

[poet2angels (lynda)]

I love so many things about this poem.
First of all, I am in love with alliteration and this poem is a perfect example of perfect alliteration. I love "Through wind-strummed leaves" Such a beautiful line.
Lynda

[rubie]

Your comments are so very much appreciated, Lynda.