Trauma defies the strongest adjectives,
a verse unworthy of our lexicon.
There’s history maneuvering behind
the eye, a tree that’s lost it greenery,
silhouettes heightening upon the evening grass,
birds perching on the edge of life and as
beloveds close their eyes and reach to kiss
the birds ascend to voluntary cries.
Man can’t survive on man’s derivatives,
man dumbing down to depths of ignorance.
The breezes can’t remain without a change,
storms touting twisters, oceans sporting hurricanes,
these winds that cannot live without a name
before they die. Desire cracks the shell
of status quo then storms the skies like anxious bees,
the bees like breezes over greenery
and blossoming white, crimson, lavender.
Mark has a chapbook, “Blue Meridian,” forthcoming from Kelsay Books. Originally from Cleveland, Ohio, Mark is now a resident of Golden Valley, AZ. When not working for a mental health agency, he enjoys birds, cats, fine wine, and spending time with his family.
