“Wait for the World”
You got weighted against the world
and you won
your lips
denied a lungful of leaf
and your skeletal stomach
fulfilled of rose petals
made an evening tree truce
with cornered chalkboards
of your every thought
through the pain of windows
a scratch for the pricker bush
who’s laughing at shadows
in the merry-go-round woods
of wooded puppets
sharing brigadier of bridegroom
with turmeric and salt
of bread-won cut wounds
and shredded gloves,
hairpins of an eerie robber father
whose silhouette a fountain casts,
shreds rocks from crystals
and an apparition burned
in twilight marks
for every woolen doll
our sheets made
of strawberry skins
and petticoats, the lavender nightshade
coats goblins between us
where the toboggan belongs
to the toad king,
carved in the wardrobe:
for sacred wood outlives
the passing flesh.
nicholauspatnaude 
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