by Holly R. Appling
Near Apollo I am coy and shy.
His compassion is causal –
His blush blinds with the glint of winter,
Under a thick tress of silver, a voice glitters.
He is so soft-spoken, so Apollo
In his verve and love –
The ruins shimmer
Amber among candles and so I smile.
By morning, he surges
Like a bird of chrome and smoke over
Slow snow-covered oceans –
He is his own inside the myth.
I wait for his exquisite
Wing strike after a white sun rises –
Never have I seen a sunrise
All in white! My frozen skin candies
To apricot syrup, my nerves
Spring to tender ginger roots,
My heart jewels to a jade apple –
I sing at my celestial working.
I suck a honey lollipop,
An ultraviolet star tucked
At my ear, my hair dark as a raven’s want –
By Apollo’s touch none
Are spared, the evening stone ritual
Burns to azure, its despair
A distance in the quiet spur.
I trace his last descent, my pale
Fingertip a silk comet burst into flame,
And look at all that red –
© 2011 Holly R. Appling
Holly R. Appling lives in Canada. Her poems have appeared in various printand online publications. More of her writing is at www.hollyappling.wordpress.com.
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