Languid Creation

Maybe if we all had wings
we could fly to the moon
just to hear them sing.
We could watch them conduct the waves
with symphonic strings.

Be calmer still
For we are insulate
acquired form of dirt.
The sea is dark
Thy breast is cold
It's warmth is napping
suggesting storms.

Libatious fecal flowing forward.
Androgynous vessels swim with mirth
for we are now aware
of existence and birth.

They will write about us, yes
And they will profit.

Maybe if we all had fins
we could swim
to the deepest parts of the ocean
where gills remain meaningless
and darkness eats light.

"Oh gods of the vast sky
let this be forthright,
impale me for my sins
so that the sea may remain dark
and the sun remain thin-
so it may light the land with color
and bring life from within.
We are but lepers;
decaying past."

Onward we march.

Fiction Collection 2011
©Bobby Ruelas