My Sins Have Left Me

My Sins Have Left Me

My sins have left me
Deserted me cold
The pounding drain pipe
The aching bed
That once loosed
The apocalyptic horses
Hoses turned on full
Spraying every innocent
In sight or sound
Has bought a bar
In Terlingua

My anger is shrinking
Like a bruised lily
Slowly bowing
In a droopy half-rot
To turn in on itself
Which is me
And I can’t even stay mad
At myself

My malevolence
Has traded itself
In for an economical breakfast
Eating sprouts
And yolk free eggs
In mild surprise
At the foam still stuck
To the bottom
Of the glass

My thieving envy
Has lost its lust
For the girl
On the car lot
Whose high beams
And polished fenders
Used to call
Out to me
In my wretched mildness

My pride is ashamed
Of the dozen roses
The gold medal
It is a conquered conch shell
Whose foot sleeps
At the head of the bed
And hides from the eye of Horus

My hunger
Once tiger encircled butter
Is for vapor
Not the three courses
Of fresh squeezed insights
Or the pondering of corporal crumbs
As they roll
Across my tongue
Barely chewed
Firing bullets now salt, now bitter
Then sweet
Making me grave and solid

My bluesy loafing naps
Are made busy
With the repair
Of time gaps
As my days move quicker
Charging like a fat Rhino
Through paper walls.

The gleaming cams and chrome exhaust
I long for no longer
Having been there
And done squat

Having disengaged my rage
Mothballed my sloth
Busted my lust
Cried for my pride
Buttoned up the glutton
Don’t’ed my wants
And turned a lighter shade of green
I find myself sitting, bored,
Before calm waters.

Joshua Kight  6/18/06