We All Want a Piece

reach my age
                     child
glimpse the smudged mirror
marred by the fingertips
of the manic masses
soot and oil, tephra and ash
mimic the material
offer false depth
                 dimensional play
of shadow and light
yet reality lies flat

we all want a piece of the mirage

the once high-spirited
shiver with apprehension
folds and jowls
                     roll and sway
domestic timespace gravitation waves
blur semblance and sight
nothing was ever solid
good luck holding dear
your desires

we all want a piece of the mirage

skin marked
deep lines pock
sheaves of faded wheat
                    scythe-ready
the too-tired sigh with relief
the crescent falls
renews the tide








January has come; Spring never again
The Queen dims our shine with her sharp tongue
Grandfather burns us with his cold heart

And yet ... still ...

                                      we all want a piece

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