Raving in Free Verse

The amber haze of evening sun through the lace of silver maple leaves,
The taste of water rising from warm wooden slats.
Steam-breathed and soaked in stillness,
Cut grass, stitched into the air,
Rhythmic pulsing of cicadas, eternal and unseen.

The kiss of corn silk and stalk, lingers on my cheeks
Afterglow from chasing phantoms in a daydream
Through green cathedral rows.

Blood warm and quick down scarred knees,
From the rush only a two wheeled steel spoked comet could deliver.
If only the blood were mine, I could wash it from my hands.

The sharp snap of the dry branch,
Falling into breathless heaves of terror
Hostage of fear in the hollow.

Hands of iron crush my throat—
My toes questing for ground
As the world narrowed to black.

My heart, a frantic drum—
But not loud enough for God to hear.
Try.
Harder.
Harder still.

The wooden headboard split the sky behind my eyes—
A warning, an oath.
Next time, better.

Pied blooms of violet and wine,
Like inkblots from some celestial test
That marked the skin instead.

A handful of careless words,
Thrown like pennies
To echo forever in the well of me.

And yet:

The wind in my hair like hymns,
As I sped down crooked, hand-hewn paths,
In flight, free.

Fingers warm and sure,
Threaded through mine—
A tether, a promise,
Safe as houses.

Sulfur masked in brown sugar.
A surface glossed in azure blue.
Apologies,
Glorious and ruinous.