A PUDDLE OF SHADOW

Images of funeral shrouds form a mask over my heart
consuming beyond the sun's fleeting
where the blend of haunting mourner's hues
swim through the mind
as their nemesis from the dazzling tones of morn
becomes a perilous demon instead of deliverer
stabbing with truths
from which one seeks to hide.

Somewhere in the morass of why stabs
over a promising dawn's failings
each banshee specter of eve's courtroom
glues shut the doors of excuses.

During the smoldering vapors of thought
I retreat to isles of gourmet laughter
savoring the illusion of controlling illumination
by scores of candles and bulbs infecting one's mood
till my eyes groan with the lamented lantern
over the dazzle of turquoise skies
uttered by a weary, undeniable stare
which our hearts jingle in intuitive pricks.

In those occasion when handcuffing a noon's shimmering fingers
ever grateful for a reprieve in the blindfolded, sensory alleyways
that are so emotively fallow
where one is content to wallow in
a puddle of shadow.