Saturation –

Turning through various Modes

of Being we Succumb

to a subtle Irony replete with Moss and friction; our

Heads held High

we Achieve

a given Solitude rare but not unseen in this

Our mind’s Eye hurtling with molten heat

a slim girl’s Suicide arced diving

in unremitting Volcanic ash She

would see you there a Sash tied about her Head yearning

for her apt deity to Rescue her from Pain – in this

She is frozen in Time baring down hard

and delivering our Child birth upon birth He who

would Mourn her young

Life in an Hourglass

the surging Scion ripe with knives

and Angles

of an Acute repair --