upon the deaths of monsters and gods

the counting of petals,
in a clematis chain,
ringing the neck,
of a sauterne horse,
somewhere mouth,
my number of days.

drunk in a grassy ditch,
drawing orion's sword,
attempting to explain,
closets with monsters,
and gods in the sky,
both now, feeble and weak.

boiled to an essense,
the singular smell,
elusive, known taste,
sitting on shoulders,
teasing to remind,
only met when alone.

i hear water nymphs,
singing to the unborn,
faery legends,
in hopes of keeping,
a world of mystery,
behind human eyes.

upon the deaths,
of monsters and gods,
maturity finds a seat,
arms folded on dreams,
a forbidden sunrise,
unseen behind his head.

shari diane willadson

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