Batman

I have written poems like this before
when words are hard to grasp
when feelings come in racking waves
what keep my pen from forming thoughts
that keep my mind from working right
like all my gears have rusted

You made me a beautiful thing 
Of feathers and sunlight
Just by pressing 
Your lips to my knuckles

You made me a creature of the air
Now I flit around
Head in the clouds
Just because you held my hand

I wonder if there is such a thing as too much feeling
maybe my arms ache for you too much to hold the pen

 

Today I must apologize 
for the dry summer wind 
that carried words to you from me
In outbursts of selfish misery.
Today I must apologize 
for the lovesick river waters
that curved around your tired body 

Spring tells the truths that winter hid.
Spring unearths last year's lies.
As the snow layed like sugar on the ground
red rimmed eyes were clouded with storms.
As the snow melts the clouds dissipate,

Just beneath the surface are hidden treasures.
Silver spoons stained with blood and rust,
tell a complex unguessable web of a tale. 
Imagine, two hundred year old babes