My Broken Eyes

 

Your falcon eyes streak wrath's disease
across the temper of their stare.
Brittle queen of naked trees,
you stutter streams of angry air.
I heard those weeping trees.
I climbed that clinging breeze
with my eyes,
my broken eyes

A bold gull siezed your fallen crust
and bore the booty to the skies.
Seven others chased and fussed
and bothered him to drop his prize.
I've worried you that way to share
your trust with me, the kind of care
you take to curl and change your hair.
I watch your mirror for lines of wear
with my eyes,
my broken eyes.

An ivory wall laced thick with vine
protects the paths where roses run
and strut their yellow pantomime
for an audience of less than one.
Against your ears my songs descend
and shattered fragments hit the floor.
The wrinkled chords and lyrics blend
like waves and rocks along the shore.
I stilled my whining heart.
I filled the missing part
with my eyes,
my broken eyes.

I bellowed in the mist.
I whispered in the mist
of my eyes,
my broken eyes.