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Lark Beltran Page 2
Thoughts Between Flights I follow midnight throng in many countried hub,
its humming like a hive. Tense in sleepless halls, passengers form lines
or wander as in limbo. Place-name on a screen tightens solar plexus
with presage of elation. Welcome´s jubilee, or tears at separation -
the dramas pass unending. Destinies-in-waiting mingle in this hive where travel is the honey. Anxiety, Our Bane
It ages us before our time.
Lying in wait to ensnare,
how it fevers the imagination,
parading a phantom phalanx of
what-if´s ...
to be inspected under
bilious gaslight - lurid Rorshach
splashes depicting disaster´s latent
and variable faces. Behold what
could happen! the evil clown leers.
Not content with choreographing
potential mishaps once, then
letting go, the sticky tape
replays ... replays.
Tossing in bed, we struggle
to escape the net,
which stunts and maims
capacity for enjoyment.
Only the heat
of a stronger emotion -
gratitude, excitement, or a surging,
floodlit faith -can overwhelm
the bugbear´s efforts,
making it shrug, and caper
away to poison another´s mind.
first published in Ken*Again, 2005
Banquet Hall
Each takes his unique serving of this world.
The shares of life presented are consumed.
And if, beforehand, any might have quarrelled
about their portions, thinking them predoomed,
the palate warms to decades of bland years
or pungent; through all we crave the cream -
brewed with sweet spices ´mid the tang of fears -
that rich and slow decoction of a dream.
We linger over passion´s demi-tasse,
find bitterness which gags, or choking sorrow
salty as blood from swallowing cut glass ...
until the healing tonic of the morrow.
Small comforts and delights round out our bowl:
nourishing fruits in season for the soul.
(first published in Ygdrasil,
2004)
© Copyright, 2015, Lark
Beltran. |