PERSPIRATION

I am the light of the candle as it burns against the force of the wind

I am the hope that dangles as it turns against the voice of sin

I am the moon shining light on what hides within

I am the sepulcher of mosquitoes that break skin

Morning comes begging for relief from nighttime tantrums

Alcohol daydreams cling tightly to feigned phantoms

Ballerinas pirouette across parquet poetry

Forgetting hindsight in the gaze of the symphony

I lay my head down on beds of hammers

They beat me with words from dreams and hindsight

Sleep comes from exhaustion

Or

Inspiration

Or

Exasperation

Wherever and whenever

The hammer endures

I am memory's

Perspiration