Precious Stones

Shine for me, my raw diamond,

Light’s cradle and first breath.

Monstrous, our symphonic breathing.

Sit within the hollow

Of this vulgar palm.

Dance for me my graceless angel,

My offbeat love,

Standing clothed in tattered sheets

And rags of human skin,

But your dancing socks darned with gold thread.

You are the plaything of warlords

My diamond whore.

Witness to the transaction, exchanged between the two deaths,

Oblivion and the gap left by a forgotten face.

I bring nothing to this table.

I take nothing from this table.

I sit before an empty plate.

You are not at all as you appear, a lump of broken glass,

But a raw diamond, torn from the mountains, oft traded and now misshapen,

And such horrors are reflected when you catch the light of this morning’s sun.