Prudence
I would call you
Green eyed, perhaps
Blue. I do no know
You yet for your eyes
Nor your scent.
This, this absence
Baffles me and now
I yearn for simple
Genius.
Prudence is my name.
Thick boughs of cork and
Sinew cut the sun into
Passing lanes upon
My faded jeans.
I miss the beat of your
Heart, hushed breathes
Like the grandfather
Ancient above me.
Do you miss my dry lips?
This silent absence can be
Made a lifetime in my
Childish mind
—I am a lost boy
—I am Pan
The moss grows thick
At my sides, your empathy
Astounds me.
I shall give you my
Corn husk body
I will join you
In the ground, seeded.
I will give rise
To a nation.
But I will forever be rooted
-
A poem circa 2007
