Skipping The Pew

I bow to a
memory the shade of love, the hue of you
a glitch in unseen matrixes,
zeroes and ones an abundance
of blues, greens
a bygone fantasy of judges gavels,
wooden and cold,
productive and unbiased; my picture
stands like sunflowers in late September,
Virgos for my lonesome ass

I bow not at the pew
of churches stainglassed in deceit, for
I know the aisles
might bite
I know the aisles
might bite

I bow to my undying memory
of love lost, love passed,
love gone; to the memory of old
bowings in
Cadillac-cars sold on purpose - I bow

I bow to the face of a picture,
knowing the truth’ll
appear like thin smoke on
a Doral-menthol-light-100-type smitten,
a casual habit
simple and true,
the memory of you
an innocence so pure; the love
I knew was blue as ice sickles
in June - out-of-place, Geminis
longing the truth
of home; the wifey-wife awaits
with no strife, surviving for the
here-and-now from memoires done passed
from so long ago

And I bow with the best
of them, not for show
but for the truth of my beau -

I’m in love
I am in love, and the memory of you:
the shade of beauty

Please forgive me baby
 

Copyright © 2005 Jacquii Cooke