ReliX ~ Figs of Virtue

FIGS OF VIRTUE The falling figs of youth; Split on the ground and melted. With melted gold in each half. We've never felt the whole in our palms, Until this moment. The beasts growl through the calm, Larks that dive from the sky into the pockets, of those who pass by. It is written in dust. The furious unfurling thrusts in the air, From the poetry pages we tear, The torn strips that were there, We reach for them, To try put them back together again, We reach for them. But it's black and untethered, Falling into puddles, Rolling all of a sudden, The temptations. And desecrations. He has burnt every ripened fig. The dried fig of harvest above the door, Plucked them all in baskets; Read and purple and white, Sticky white sap dipped and dripped, More and more. The wasps hovered like the law, And dove in with their stings, Into its paws, Stripped the bark, Caught the flower buds, Threw their petals into dusk and butter, Embraced in lapis lazuli. Called was the scepter, But upright stood the King, Figs melted for dinner, Across the tables of honey and sin, And he was asked to give, The Golden fig, To the most beautiful…