Eyes in the Mountains

There were eyes in the mountains, so I kept
my secrets close, but that’s no way to live
or love. With mountains out of view, I slept,
woke, and collected my dreams in a sieve;

The sand went to my liver, the gold to
my lover, and I exhaled black and mint.
The living poison sand gave me the flu
and even loving took a blacker tint,

hinting bile and chicken pot pie. Bare feet
stuck to snowy, cold, stones between houses,
neither mine, so my body shoveled sheets
of ice to earn my keep, and it douses

now for some albedo through the window,
somehow expecting warmth out of the snow.


About CobraQuiz

A political writer.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s