burns supposedly harm only the flesh

Photo by T L Oberman

Burns supposedly harm only the flesh
Underneath the skeleton remains whole
Not touched by summer’s moist consuming mesh.
Nor does heat dig deep to fracture the soul
Yearning for soft wine in an icy bowl.

Nature has gone awry with its plans.
Everything simmers inside while my skin
Freezes and numbs. My empty untouched hands
Fold calmly, intertwine and pray on sin.

An acrostic penned in a beat-up spiral notebook during a hot humid St. Louis summer while courting a far-off friend in distant Sitka.

For background on the poems I’ve published on Medium see “about these poems”

T L Oberman for Poetry in Form.