I am prodigal sunshine,
Inkstained oilslick black .
Once, I was made marble ghost in a heart with mother of pearl inlay, but never again.
I am a beast of excess,
Some times elegant in its ugliness;
Others, sickened with grandeur.
But I pray my stillness in waiting is never mistaken as statuesque or permanent.
It’s the year of the crocodile, the bait and wait and devour.
I am afternoon moon, inkstained red as church.
I’m faberge grinning with a stained glass jaw,
Like the gaping maw of god,
With rows of teeth like choirs of angels;
Stained pomegranate seed scarlet,
Almost bruise violet.
My hands freshly aflame and free of affliction,
Charring lovely curses from each inch unfit for silver linings.