A blast of thorns

A blast of thorns – penetrating the tin of pickled men

Meat. Sopitaneous meat
And I think of the days you treaded not so lightly in my heart
When you broke me with a stiletto heel and a btlle of warm milk.
You left me as meat
Meat that breathes and lives but thinks not of doves encircling roses red of life
Me, like water in a can placed on the beach.
And you with your soft clothes and !!!NEW!!! meat.
But all I can think of…
                     All that puts me to bed in the shivering frost of nigh
Is the thought of you,
Peering through sunglasses I had bought you,
Quietly pruning the roses.
I left our house as stolid meat. a canned man,
Half a nam in a spontitinateous can
I leave, sighting thorns through my tears.

© 2007 Delwood Finch