Magenta Rising

Honesty intrudes the unadorned hour

An unexpected breakfast in magenta shadows of wolves

-Love on a platter

pureed

creamed

frozen

melted

pulverized

molded 

sculpted

-And presented

Garnishing with laces of parsley and grenadine

She slumbered for hours, centuries

Awakened by a disheveled scream

Stirring the smell of cranberries

While other women dine on crumbs of their idolatry

You starve yourself

Nay, you’ll not find her ravenous curls

In the chocolaty abysses of Hell

Bring out the hammock and mirrors

We’re going to watch the sun rise with our backs to it.

-Kore Gleason

On the other side of stately morning;

You’re undressing into more comfortable attire

Of cranberry kisses

and slumber sweetly

Simmering in the heat of unventured love

Smoke filled

dryly chilled

finely willed

mercy killed

waters still

honey spills

Over her body

over her pristine bedsheets

And splashing to the floorboards to feed a monster

beneath it all

As I searched the world for precious things;

olive oil, a perfect circle and two identical snowflakes

She merely dreams with her mind so sharp

the nature of the beast is not slain

but cleanly rearranged under her instruments

Her night is my rising hour

To which I rearrange the words of my cobalt haiku

And slip between the strings of her magenta morning.

-a.s. barnabe