Poem by Patti Masterman

If birthdays didn’t make you older
If alleys were blind,
If you could drive
me anywhere
near insanity’s brink;
Or if time could march,
and the moon whisper
it’s forgotten lines
in blue octopus ink.
If scarce winds could dance,
where soft rains kiss,
or the brave stars wink.
If my neurons were,
in that thinking circus
of blown-fuse circuits,
the weakest link.
If man is a parasite
sucks blood from earth,
grieves igneous oceans
that once gave birth;
If venial sin is always the lesser,
and time leaves us dead in the dust,
I’m bound to make you my
secret confessor,
for time never sleeps
in your rust.
-Patti Masterman
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s