Trust in It - M.Weisgerber

.................................I write while poised in a guise of chastity,
heart now lying fallow somewhere out beyond the game fields.
Shadowed by corrugated steel raised high on a pylon
barely within sight of the river quay; constantly weathering the elements.

It huddles: a talisman, a gravemarker.

I mean that honestly, I have cut out my heart this time.
Felt the arteries sigh, and dribble their contents when placed upon the soil.
Then incision upon moist clay, staining loafers and corduroy suit
followed by a slow walk across a stretched plain of stardust.

It is done, with only the mudwruckles to burp and giggle as I pass them.
Tie flapping with the wind, hoping to jump ship
or scamper away into the highgrass.
I covered the package & spit twice, pondered a different sort of outcome.

For my imaginary girl was a temporal tool, now out molting in the weed bed.
Pushing my need for love into a habiliment of grass (oh I ask how it can last):
this time I used her to whack it; to shorten its span into something useful.

Hatred makes my poetry white, a desire; a flight into a right wing adventure
alone, wishing to confide folded Confucius tales discovered wrapped in a Malabar.
The kind that glow yellow when unraveled.

Review title.
It’s the feeling I get while standing with stained shovel along the waterbed,
head hanging low with noonday sun held high; sighing
while expecting some different sort of destiny.