on a golden breath

screen


lines into lights
what web is this

what atmosphere
orders such rainbows

ride
I will ride
descended on a light sleigh
arms wide
to gather up gold

where is
the sun
is it just out of reach
is a corona
as close as I come

who would have thought
that this mesh sail
of lustre
would be all that remained
of my sky-boat

oh blow
blow
blow solar wind
send me out on my way
send me home

blow blow
blow me golden breath
yes blow me
all the way
home


© Frank Prem, 2017

June 2017 Poem #13: trench man #5: the nature of the job

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7 thoughts on “on a golden breath

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