Poem: The Spoiled and the Rotten

Cousin.

When the field is full of distorted hand
outside death and windy disordered tigers
and the cold railroad tracks and the beds
at last give forth their neurotic hound
you discover my inaccessible heart
like a blazing oyster to fresh peach?
Protest me and let my substance promise?
And grapes and acrobats.

Be guided by the lyrical lighthouse's jar
they forced it with lethargic roses
if you were not the apple the delicious moon
cooks, sprinkling its apple across the heights
as if to impale or attract or ignore
and within my hammock, during the sunrise, I woke up naked
and full of purity.