Monologue for lovers

I hid a rose in my rage
In my mind there are mountains between us.
It is a place where ships gather
at the very edge of the seas now waiting
for the wind.
Where the insane laughter of birds disturbs me.
I shut the windows and they call louder.
You own the bones, the magic.
You are the bearer of our entwined fate,
Held in significance by the crossing of clouds
in the blue sky.
A stone, a cross.
One night turning with the moon
I walk with hands held as water.
My tongue, it is bark,
My words, they are dired at the edges of rivers
Your face a mask, your face a river.

Your face the mask of a river

And so it shall always be
Between us from the future
Through the present,
The way the suns madness
can drive men to extortions of motion and voice.
Our brave faces look upon the dawning
as if the broken images we find
in the mirrors cracked on the ground
could ever reflect the darkness in our souls.

those places we try to hide in the cupboards
And closets of our summer rooms.

The world is alive with the sound of bees.
The lands are living with streams for eyes
and feilds with which to hear.
Suns set upon candles that are fingers
With which I touch your cool forehead,
your bitter eyes.
Oh, if only my ravaged hands
could bering temerity to that brow!

I call out to the gods,
"Come and cure us of this plague!
I have within my enfolding arms
the matter upon which have been built
foundations of brilliant desire."

How can I tell you what is wrong?
How can I judge the living doves within you,
Your breast is strong, your visions full,
Intrude upon the world again,
Walk tall among the city streets.
Take all offered to you as the most
valuable of commodities in this present state
of color.

Clamour with the might of armies!
Clatter upon the steps, the stones
With visions of justice.
Our days will remain precious to us
For as long as we breathe.

These are my words.
Around you I pivot until all words
Become symbols pointing to our inadiquacies.
Until the foundations of language
shake with an aged palsy.
Until the ships upon which we sail
Rove the seas of flowers.

Promise that I love you,
and I shall trace the lines of your hands
to the maps of your eyes.
My love, your bearing in these troubled hours
reveals to me the very destiny embodied in your mouth.
When speech fails as the days divulge forth,
Pulling the night into submission,
Breaking it down into simpler elements,
Scientists and philosophers can do no less
Than find answers by asking first to be set free.

When the days of our love come down
to the beating of the houses of music and lyric,
I will remind you of your duties this day.
Variegated colors make us tremble.
Send us to a sense of import,
Of doomsayers and truthtellers.

Say that I love you for I am strong within your hear
And hands, remember that I am yours for now
And will remain entwined within you.


~Todd Sanders