I stood as if in silent prayer, stock-still
I wanted no ripple to spoil this perfect
spillage on the day,
A huge man hungry rainbow slick,
A blob on the horizon, a melting film,
A picture of raw, psychedelic heat
It eats at the mountains
The skies jowls sag with the strain
of this daily torment of day
It cannot hold to it much longer,
This eternal bite of colour
Insect like in its movements,
the day shuffled past
100 legs skimming past like grand skirts
Sweeping up the wreckage,
storing it for tomorrow and
the next in tipped over barrels
The day spreads out like magic
Opening as a fan over a shy smile
A desert without sand, marooning over and over
An endless blanket, a cherished, recycled oyster
I stand stock still and raise my head
at its familiar fingers over my body,
I pray flower like and open.
