Stitch Up

I tried to stitch you together again
- just as you were -
but all I could see was
a yellow chick with
a human eye,
flapping its wings
as it tried
- unsuccessfully -
to fly.
I cannot erase
that waddling gait
and yellow webbed feet.

Fractured

I took your body to the Rainmaker,
wrapped in tarpaulin, just as it was
when your subordinates found you.
Thick mud, lacerated with deep fissures,
encrusting your fractured cheek.
I wanted to sink in my finger nails
and claw it all away
but I'd bitten them down to the skin.

I laid you on the stone slab.
Your eyes were blind as marbles,
your perfect nose no longer commanding
respect. This mattered little to me beside
the way you inhaled the aroma
of new baked bread and fresh ground coffee
when I brought you your breakfast.
Your mouth was now locked both
to my kisses and to further strife.

The Rainmaker circled around you.
Many days, hours, weeks and months passed by
until one day a single aqua tear
formed a gully in the fissured surface.