Little Figurine of a Lion (revisited)

You have wide eyes,
they were probably supposed to be
fierce, but I guess
cultural differentiation and
perspective allow me to see
them as I will,
old and filled with
knowledge that could have once been applied
but now sits silently with no pupil to
hear of its secrets.
Your face maybe snarled,
once, but your bitterness and hatred
left you slowly as steam from a boiling
pot of water and you now are transitioning
to a slow smile.
It shames me to admit that I did not know you back
then, in your dangerous days.
You used to be adventurous
and cunning, you traveled and experienced regardless of
what; now you are an old sage, a souvenir of a time
when watches were younger and more willing to be wrong.
You are now a tool used to collect unwanted
particles of skin and turned up dirt, I
apologize for that, but seeing your half smile
every time I glance in your direction is something
that gives me hope

As I start my day and breathe into my morning coffee.

— — —

here, now, I try to remember you,
your teeth, your claws, your power,
I am lost,
now with coffee it’s coconut oil,
no cream, no sugar, black and oily,
slick through the body,
something to power the brain,

and all of the people around,
I feel them in my gut,
I feel them waltz through my intestines
and I can’t get them out,
they’ve anchored into the soul.

clock faces pass retinas,
and time passes me
time passes me
I become a collection of corners
stolen from used jigsaw puzzles.

and I miss the simplicity of you,
and I miss the simplicity of
what I was when you were there.

before distance,
before oil,
before time.


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