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Description
My ambrosial allegro. I used to sing freely, flowing
Odes to flaxen charms, immersed in honeyed fields and
Dawn illuminations. Summer seduced me.
Her beautiful blooms,
Merry serenades and vainglorious feasts with beguiling beasts
Entreated me to bask too long. These days,
There are no songs.

All gold sensations have absconded.
Sparkling securities swallowed by
Cold storms and brash towers,
A stucco stage of blinding light to a craven
Cage of darkness.

I’m afraid. Was I
A sabayon scholar, excessively
Contented with pompous promise that
Reflected in the looking glass, and now
Essentially spent and decaying emerita?
Did I cash in my bonds too soon?
Did I squander those embellished investments?
I was certain there was more within my walls.
A vault of boundless possibility discreetly
Nestled in my arthropod bravado,
But I was wrong: the dumfounded debtor
Propped on spindle legs as hungry creditors descended
Down to swoop their dues like hurricane vultures, pound
POUND. Cue the wretched whiteness as I
Cowered wildly at their dark thunder, pound
POUND around and around my faltering fortress door-

(I glimpse my haggard mother from the floor.
She demanded skyscrapers and I delivered
Structurally unsound bungalows; they creaked
Beneath the agony of her expectations. Perhaps,
The fault lay in the foundation stones,
Clacking bones so precociously disjointed from a
Poorly conceived union. I tried to soothe that
Strange beget with tender tunes and borrowed treasures,
But the ants devoured her. Their corrosive fangs
Seared into souring flesh and I am the caustic remains.)

A stained melody echoes inside my plundered chambers.
I taste anatomised viola strings and linnet wings
Dangling from rattling chatelaines, sharply bitter.
I painfully skitter along the hollowed halls,
Calling for God to tell me whether this fantastic vault exists
Or if I have to start again from nothing
But malt whiskey and pure grit.

Description
My ambrosial allegro. I used to sing freely, flowing
Odes to flaxen charms, immersed in honeyed fields and
Dawn illuminations. Summer seduced me.
Her beautiful blooms,
Merry serenades and vainglorious feasts with beguiling beasts
Entreated me to bask too long. These days,
There are no songs.

All gold sensations have absconded.
Sparkling securities swallowed by
Cold storms and brash towers,
A stucco stage of blinding light to a craven
Cage of darkness.

I’m afraid. Was I
A sabayon scholar, excessively
Contented with pompous promise that
Reflected in the looking glass, and now
Essentially spent and decaying emerita?
Did I cash in my bonds too soon?
Did I squander those embellished investments?
I was certain there was more within my walls.
A vault of boundless possibility discreetly
Nestled in my arthropod bravado,
But I was wrong: the dumfounded debtor
Propped on spindle legs as hungry creditors descended
Down to swoop their dues like hurricane vultures, pound
POUND. Cue the wretched whiteness as I
Cowered wildly at their dark thunder, pound
POUND around and around my faltering fortress door-

(I glimpse my haggard mother from the floor.
She demanded skyscrapers and I delivered
Structurally unsound bungalows; they creaked
Beneath the agony of her expectations. Perhaps,
The fault lay in the foundation stones,
Clacking bones so precociously disjointed from a
Poorly conceived union. I tried to soothe that
Strange beget with tender tunes and borrowed treasures,
But the ants devoured her. Their corrosive fangs
Seared into souring flesh and I am the caustic remains.)

A stained melody echoes inside my plundered chambers.
I taste anatomised viola strings and linnet wings
Dangling from rattling chatelaines, sharply bitter.
I painfully skitter along the hollowed halls,
Calling for God to tell me whether this fantastic vault exists
Or if I have to start again from nothing
But malt whiskey and pure grit.