Vessel

© 2011 David Jasmin-Green.

My head is fat with thoughts of you that I never asked for,
but I was blessed (or cursed) with them anyway -
take your pick.
For a long time you confounded me, but I guess
at long last I've sussed you out.

In the alchemical laboratory of your mind
you are an occlusion of vessels one within another,
a series of glasses heavily frosted to keep out the idle glances
of those you classify as ugly, pointless or profane.
The fluids within your secret chambers vary from crystal clear to inky black,
from amber to the dusty blue of your eyes.
They are as thick as your hair, as luxurious as your enthusiasm,
as transparent or opaque as your white and not so white lies
depending on the bloody weather, I suppose.
Those alchemical fluids, my love,
are more flamboyant than your careless words.

You are a semiprecious stone of seven unsolidified facets
reflecting seven different versions of your being,
knowing as many different shades,
some open, but most concealed.
I sense seven sins and more golden promises than I can count
all mixed up in the eternal vessel, the epitomy of you.
You are not wicked by a long shot, m'dear,
but not exactly an angel either, if you get my gist.