Half-Buried By Change
written by: Dah
@dahlusion
How quickly moving
another season crosses the sun
the months
with their transformations
I can name the motion
of each season
the stars boiling over
or the moon’s muscles
decomposing in morning’s light
or a rousing dawn
setting fire to the ocean
the flames dipping
in the strips
of lifting waves
that skip across the shore
to be
choked down by sand
and sealed, like a crypt
The end of summer
is an old animal
molting, shedding, losing fur
like a dog
that no longer licks its balls
its tongue dry and thirsty
I’m sucking juice from a plum
while the first autumn leaf
ripples with the breeze
together they make crestfallen music
that is sweeter than this fruit
sadder than this poem
The light is different now
almost fragile
DAH is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee, and the author of nine books of poetry. DAH lives in Berkeley, California, where he is working on his tenth poetry collection, while simultaneously working on his first collection of short fiction.
Latest posts by Dah (see all)
- Child Cymbals Firecrackers - December 2, 2020
- Fragmented No. 26 - February 18, 2020
- Night, City - November 6, 2019
