Amorphous by Ibraheem Uthman

Spring pulsed in with marigold petals
slipping off a rain-glazed rock
against my nakedness which beyond mud wrappings and marrow   ripened into gentle plops, like prayers—
each one a seed buried
in your sanctuary — God
above a country of moaning men that has made of me a heedful child

Your sloughed-off skin broke into a bowl of eventide sweetness curling the spare
of a man that once sprouted green
Into its relentless recoil     and your eyes into thin lines of thirst
duned above mossed earth     until a puddle forms —finally—
after the spring rain
what else can i call
these gentle plops forward?
what else can i call the
crown of light atop this green?

Ibraheem Uthman is the author of Mind Of a Bard, a poet, and an essayist