A Thousand Acres of Sun

Trace it to the cradle, these spiny desires
That prickle golden like Eris' apple,
Snapping as the twig clasp, spite abundant
And bitter blood crunch as I draw it to my lips,
My lungs.

Bite.

I suppose I believed, or at least, made
Myself begin to believe that time would
Truly make the mangled memory fade to pangs,
Torment to parable, tumultuous clatter to muted patter,
Quiet Trojan clangs- like acid eroded bones
And jigsaw palms- pungent like the apple rot,
Searing and sour.

-I'm trying to remember
The scent, the taste of reward
-Endeavour's gift, sweet sapling blossom
Yellow chrysanthemum gloss
And hollow reeds unbridled
Beyond the salted knees and buckling
-Deserving, dear god, the wintry warmth
Of self subjected meritocracy and frost deserving
Deluge, the silvery swallow veil
Upon the golden fields, the honey wheaten grains
Shame aflame and gleaming
Beneath my thousand acres of sun.