40 Poems From POMEGRANATE FLESH by Strider Marcus Jones

THE TWO SALTIMBANQUES - Poem by Strider Marcus Jones from Pomegranate Flesh

THE TWO SALTIMBANQUES

when words don't come easy

they make do with silence

and find something in nothing

to say to each other

when the absinthe runs out.

his glass and ego

are bigger than hers,

his elbows sharper,

stabbing into the table

and the chambers of her heart

cobalt clown

without a smile.

she looks away

with his misery behind her eyes

and sadness on her lips,

back into her curves

and the orange grove

summer of her dress

worn and blown by sepia time

where she painted

her cockus giganticus

lying down

naked

for her brush and skin,

mingling intimate scents

undoing and doing each other.

for some of us,

living back then

is more going forward

than living in now

and sitting here-

at this table,

with these glasses

standing empty of absinthe,

faces wanting hands

to be a bridge of words

and equal peace

as Guernica approaches.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones 2012. From his book Pomegranate Flesh. All Rights Reserved. 

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