the blind voyeur

the taste
in my mouth
now a stench
mother
sister
father
brothers all
for it was
just a brew
dark
not to escape
but to mis-communicate
the dissention
that binds

the odor
from my body
is that of
soap
showered on
this morning and
the oily, waxy
substance placed afterwards
under my arm for
the shell
that is me
ensconces
truth un-wearable

the sight
of waiter, owner, cashier
smiling
offering a Polish porter
to a Panamanian
a metaphor misplaced
for boredom
a strategy of
using the enemy’s
tactics for advancement
may just work today
denial is cowardice
despite its comfort
this morning
the spring storm
clattered its way into my
window so I arose
brushed
and cleaned
the dust
from the cherry wood
frame of the photo
of a flower
in the bathroom
the white specs
vanished
as did the tree
in the yard
where the children
once they learned
to climb it
hid
their anguish
found
their solace
much as
the blue
of dark
finds
the small opening
of light
from the bedroom
door
ajar;
the glass
over the photo
remains
smudged

hoping
whatever present or
past
would not enter
the future
the cherry tree
is now the fuel
flaming the food
the smoke watering
my eyes ;my countenance
cleansed
I fearful of my
own tears falling