Sunday, 1 March 2015

Till Kingdom Come

By Rory A.A. Hinton

Your healing invitation.
My healthy investment.
High end for a high end.
We know Kahlo's blend:

Once sew enclosed
Inside our fabric.
Feeling your heeling
Now with-held strength
At your legs-length.

Andy: "Just be yourself, Betsey."
Betsey: "Which one?"

From his salmon plate
To your corporate date.
Catalysts are never late.
"Afraid," you say?
Let me tell you why
... you slay:

     You are more than every Woman,
     You are Gucci Noir:
          You are your space
          You part the read see
          You have women desire you
          You set the captives free
          You shut down production
          You open closed doors.
     You are more than any Christian,
     You are Christian Dior.

Andy: "Just be yourselves, Betsey."
Betsey: "Which ones?"

With timing
And rhyming
Minimal words
I found my sound
Within your source.

I am swept under,
Stand asunder over
Me over again until
You understand I am
Strong enough to catch.

Strong enough to be
Hold arms out for you:
A bountiful Mobster
A beautiful Monster.

Andy: "Just BE, Betsey."
Betsey: "BEtsey." 

Canadian cosmology meets
American archaeology greets
Tumbling photography
Therapeutically enveloped.
I must take magnificent pictures
Before you are newly developed.

Andy: "I am deeply superficial, BEtsey."
Betsey: "Take a picture so I can see." 

I am perfectly clear.
I don't commandeer.
I never have.
I never will.
Still ...

My love, if you want,
My Cinderella can ask
For an offer you can use,
For an offer I won't refuse,
From your more than fair-he
Father of the gods:

     Will you give
     What we believe,
     This safe place,
     This sane pace,
     This orchid flower,
     This ontic tower,
     This desired lot,
     This ... Camelot?

Betsey: "What's he doing at his desk?"
Andy: "Waiting till kingdom come, BEtsey." (Click)