Sharp-Clawed, Wrinkled and Blue

painting by Soga, Shohaku (1764)
.
The enlightened baby dances
in the dead tree bursting blossoms,
alive of all
the parasites of beauty:
the ivy growth, the mistletoe
and his orange robe of waterfall.

I sit
below,
sharp-clawed, wrinkled and blue
looking past the shining child of sky
into the hand-sized stone in my mind,
for you.

My antelope daiper itches.
My holy bangles have lost their high-C chime.
And even the grass has gone
grey and flat.

But when he flashes me those five pearl fingers
and his two raucous curving thumbs,
I smile with a little more than joy.

Then, I know
he's me when I am free
enough
to not want him as you,
when I can sit
between the tree and grass
letting my horns of calcified wishing
drop to the rutted mud,
my anklets singing
in the rain of falling fangs.



by jerry gordon
5.4.05