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Red Scarf Over My Eyes

by: Evan Morgan

This way for kings and madness,
This way growing-cold light
pointing its sharp finger how it pleases–
Demanding obedience like a stage.

Humanity scowls, critics ever
So much room for us to be like
the trees–
But our eyes close, nodding toward and backward
intimately caressing the sweet enraptured light,
agape in splendor.

Sink into cushioned honey seats
made from the feathers of angel wings
dismembered from guilty conscience

Phallic paint-peeling master
contains its force within, bursting forth
like some aquatic power from a crack
in the cement,
Stands in front of Judge scanning individuals,
Always criticizing
forever an opinion
alone in belief
wishing for respite
but everyone feels
the longing, desire
of knowing
the need to fill our chest cavities with something,
something real, something whole.
We all suffer.
The girl in the red dress finally
wears something we can understand,
feeling transcends knowing and everything is clear.
Eyes open and close so gracefully it is as if
blinking is an art form, trapped in the label
of reflex.

Beautiful red dress girl becomes my Queen
because she wants to, because everyone is alone,
because just in case, because forever isn’t long,
because love is sitting in front of our gaping eyes,
because as these sunken pits see flame and char and life
our mind embraces another kind of truth,
the truth of apple blossoms in springtime,
filling the air with nectar and spice,
reminding the world of its power.

I sit here today obedient in love
and I know only the heat of red reflections in the mirror
and I see only the heart pumping thick blood
and I long for that time of the day where the sun
falls past my vision and the
sky is a deep glowing red exit sign
illuminated once every twenty-four hours.

The red of love becomes cold white of night,
beats out warm notes brighter
under starlit sky.