The Immaculate

Chrome pilots scrape summer skies
While Lost Children swim in seas of daffodils and dandelions,
Blind youth
Escaped and unrestrained
Like tides of sparrows
Break across blue and
Crash into cumulus,
An impact of petals and feathers
An explosion of innocent laughter,
Their sound becomes entangled in the zephyr
Weaving immaculate patterns
Invisible
Beautiful.

Tangled strands of blonde
Tangled strands of brown
Strands washed in chemicals
Strawberry scented--

Strands

--Splash and flash
Gracing rays of light,
Aurora beams at dawn from above,
The yellow sun
The yellow blossoms
These are your sons
These are your daughters
Swirling virgins swelling spirits
Churn behind pupils of stained glass,
The panes reflect Eternity
Tiny beaks of vision
Scavenge for fragments
Food for the nest of memory,
Their memories are free
Their memories are clean
Absent of abrasions and broken hearts,
These are the unstained souls of raging symmetry
Untouched
Untainted
Their distance from the aged ordains them with unseasoned instincts
The proclivities of Righteousness
Escaped and unrestrained.

In seas of daffodils and dandelions
The Children sink
The Children swim
They rise.


Suspended above like Cosmic marionettes are the chrome pilots
Encased in silver shells
The pilots navigate skies of Moon, Star and sapphire,
Blemished souls wrapped in clean uniforms
Pressed and fitted,
Beings buried behind gears
Dials
Switches
Engines
Metals
They hide behind masks
Manufactured by the machines of time.

Their scarred blue hearts flutter
Busted blood vessels like broken spider legs give life to memory
And resuscitate the cold ghosts of trauma,
Boiling the belly of wicked desire
While frozen blood networks under the fevered flesh of sweat and wantonness
(He wishes he was there,
The soiled grounds of flashing filaments,
The carnival of flesh).

The chrome pilots scrape summer skies searching for Deliverance,
A crack in cloud of porcelain
A loophole in the Sun
Erasure

The chrome pilots sift the stars of untamed horizons
Searching for a reprieve from the wounds
The scars
Etched by time and human experience
The scabs of overexposure

And over

And over
Distant frontiers
The strains of a requiem waft on the zephyr
Then float and freeze to the grounds of graves,
The place where bodies hide
From the other side of time,
The aged solemn figures are dressed in black
Their flesh seasoned by the years
Stand aside
Silent.
The damaging realization of comprehension:
The tears leave trails on the faces of mascara
(And she is a beautiful mourner)
And he stands numb
His chiseled face a dry stone
(Only in the shadows of empty rooms does he weep)
The warm bodies mourn cold vacancies
A bed
A chair
An absence
A space
Empty.

The homes are quiet
Only the fences separate the silence,
The curtains are ghosts
Skimming the breeze of open windows.


And entangled in the zephyr,
Beautiful,
Are the sounds of the Lost Children,
And the Children are drowning
And the Children are swallowed
By undertows of yellow
Dandelion and daffodil
The Children sink
The Children swim
They rise,
And from the yellow seas of abandon
They are clean
And they are untainted
Escaped
Unrestrained
The Immaculate.

mc