Ms. Metaphor

Dear Ms. Metaphor:

The infinitude of your being
When I form my succulent lips
In an attempt to say certain things,
Sashays within the wind
Plucking the creative cord of thought
Deep within the listeners minds;

I know that you can illustrate the most beautiful image
Like the illumination of colors
At the edge of the sky
Fighting to maintain their position
Being kissed good-bye,
While the sun drowns under the line
Where the earth and sky lip lock into oblivion
The presence of your unknown enemy;

Ms. Metaphor,
As I sit and compose this letter
Shielded by a tree bent under the weight of agony,
I think fondly of your gift.
Every story has been blessed by
Your unfathomable kiss,
Your mouth
An endless stream of screaming lakes,
Hearing you dance beneath the surface of every voice,
Even being the harmony on the tongues of liars
The speaker of truths
And the revealer of desires,
I will forever honor you;

Ms. Metaphor,
I patiently await the rhythm unraveling in your womb.
During the approaching presence of a physical tomb
I sense her
Turning, churning, kicking in your belly
Ready to be released from the curtains of the sky…
But when?
Will the emergence of the princess of sound
Rest on the same pillow of silence you occupy now?
You showed me that all things are of the one life force,
From photons bouncing off a single blade of grass to
Blue-blackened traces of a lose
Garnishing the flesh of a coward.
But is it true
That even a soul
Dwells within a broken-in shoe?


I appreciate the way
You swallow the mundane plane and
Regurgitate the extraordinarily extravagant.
Knowing that language would be
Merely a lethargic activity
In the absence of your presence,
You are greatly cherished.
Yet I wonder, what is to be
With your coming daughter
The Lovely Ms. Simile~