Born of Yolk - 20151122

I want a woman that has had her heart broken

Cracked egg-yolk completely in an emulsion of constitution

Of this is who I am self-definition congealed peering into the separation

Of yellow and clarity forced to un-mix to re-segregate

The colors of her life, the permanence of plans welded

To see the bolts of the steam ship popping like rocket corks

The wedding champagne of tuxedos and silk dresses

Of the man you brought to events or etched on a joint invitation

Announced to the world, wrapping paper sliced

Refuse blenders and gilded rimmed China

Closeted linens and cabinet steel pots

The cake knife licked tongue blood on the blade

Tears in hands scrubbed toilets and shopping cart aisles

Of knowing what one eats orientation of stomach acids

Remediation of bleached pillow case investment

Of what it means to put money down at the track bet a horse

And lose it all

Bankrupt at the sunset approaching, last race of that day

Dress sterile in the limpid breeze peering out that this is a circle

Hair flowing, fist gripping, eyes to the sky knowing that swallow

The orange camel blackness of ember darkness fading into charcoal midnight

The sensation of when one was younger digesting, times not resented

But remembered of in the nutrition of bones, sinew, and tissue

Of heart broken and muscle pumped into a growth of lotus petals breeching mud

I do not want a lily or cloistered farce the lights have never gone down on

I want her to know the difference between the tip toe sounds and the fired scents

Of passion and dedication, to breathe the rarity of what it means

To consistently choose to be one’s very best self

Is not a diagram of fidelity to repress the stimuli of passion in the dancing fonts of the track

But the focus to elect growth in each day, not by default, but by desire

The volition only learned from a broken heart eviscerated into alone

Devoid of the option of love it has wholly relied and chosen to live