TRAGIC Poem: A Trampoline of Suns, by Rayhan Roy

The Spring was tensed, all springs are,
“Today’s the hottest on record”,
the weather woman was ornamented, platinum white,
she looked like mom, but mom had no Sun,

A burning cornea, wrapped around silky green peaks,
I had dad’s eyes, but mine are brown,
“What was ice cream?”
“Something that melted”
Thank god dirt doesn’t melt,

Sandboxes aren’t children-exclusive,
though, the suns beg the adults to move,
Pulsing, flares signal life worth redeeming
yet, the light is used only to tan,
heat, only to fuel inebriated, burning passion,

Attendees of the grand Ball found courtesy something of contempt,
woman spun sultry steps, men stifled rejection,
however, the deceptive lyre wasn’t pleasing in tone to all alike,
The lips of the divergent mimicked a trampoline,
Dissent roiled high off the tongue, only to fall on silent floor,
yet, the floor listens,

Suns play with thread, unraveling, collapsing,
the end frayed from constant play,
the labyrinthian walls only stretched sky-high,
Men forged wings of wax, fervently hopeful, unsettlingly individualistic,
they fall towards red, cracked stone,

“There was green ground and blue sky.
Birds chirped while morning prayers drifted on high.
Water stretched to horizons, air kissed skin,
sons fell face first while fathers breathed laughter in.”
Mom’s voice was caught by dream and silence observed the lullaby,

I shuffled off, probably like a slug, though,
I wondered how those birds felt, soaring– didn’t they get burned?
The absence of the Sun lent shadows to dreams,
but above shone the brightest star,

red, boiling hot, avoiding dawn, as,
when the Sun came up, the star scurried,
when the Sun went down, the star spread its gospel,

I wondered if they were like star crossed lovers,
longing for affection, yet promising mutual destruction,
A relationship which sparked tall tales, legends, myths,
lullabies