Hours of Saffron and Ivory

A fool was I to sully a time of boiled coffee and rosy delight. Now shamed I swallow every Sunday, on an altar of ash and contrition.

Hours of Saffron and Ivory

Beneath warmed cloudy climes 

Cold hardy beers rise

Slate silhouettes play from breath, of tight Norwegian cigarettes 

To the rhymes of tap tap bebop jazz, the christian roars his sax 

My Center pumps fierce against her flesh

Wanting a sacrifice the bilberry dress unveils temptation 

Her tigereyed pearls twist and shout, 

Who am I to doubt?

Impatient fools we leave, heels bruised stomping to hymns of bliss

Yet she strides in grace under those starry street lamps

then sudden — yellow hues break the indigo sky

Moon! Awake!

Don’t flee I plead!

Be my Creed! grant this night Eternity!

for the sufferings of mortality creep

Delirium under that gaudy sun seep

So Exhausted we lay,

Enamoring the bed of blossomed Hydrangea,

gentle pollen and candied nectar 

paired with Stale wine, smoke and notes of sauerkraut wet our finger tips 

drip

drip

Drip…

mantles of eyes freshly agape 

Lashes strokes of ink, etch a tale of the unbetrothed

Until we bear witness to the tweety dive, devour worm for breakfast, fin.

silent misery and intense I dream, 

kept talons gouge viscera onto graced unwashed sheets 

her laugh howling through the cool wind and crashing tides

Plunged I have, into that eerie space haunted by the eastern siren 

Stronger than plum brandy, 

poignant love ferments

What is life without 

clockwork now!

the Cuckoo cries, and the hands wave goodbye

to the hours of saffron and ivory. 

Header Image by Aidan Pinon