Jacob's Reflections after the Bout
Truth Thomas
Space heater of volcanoes—mountaintop
no feather can peak, you are jasmine breath
of spring, breast of terra firma, wrapped in
cowry shells of clouds. You are torso of time
clearing thunder's throat—lightening strikes
in cage fights of celestial arenas. Who am I
but dressed up dirt to wrestle you? What am I
but a tapped out hip—bankruptcy of tricks
slipping out of the ring to change.
Space heater of volcanoes—mountaintop
no feather can peak, you are jasmine breath
of spring, breast of terra firma, wrapped in
cowry shells of clouds. You are torso of time
clearing thunder's throat—lightening strikes
in cage fights of celestial arenas. Who am I
but dressed up dirt to wrestle you? What am I
but a tapped out hip—bankruptcy of tricks
slipping out of the ring to change.