Capital sinner

The pretty youth who floats
on the screen up in the air
revs the sweat glands
into molecules of damp.
Desire never dies and
old ladies never sit
upon the ferris wheel
without the spinning
and the reeling –
old lust has met her match.

Every misdemeanor, trivial or not
can bring the inner wrath
outside me in a snap.
Tripping over root along
the wooded path,
if I go down in thunder
the dark will bring me up.
Look out! Stray from my way,
anger burns and cloaks
the inner seed of righteous
indignation, it seethes.

Old curly toes can stall me –
sleep the wake away,
laziness overtakes,
the idle engine runs,
spews carbon into atmosphere,
heating like the sun.
Such is my life when
sloth the winner is.

Whether Juliet tomato
or spying three toed sloth
I hold the world in wonder
at green thumb ability
and natural detection,
these skills I have –
earned the right to be
held in high esteem.
Vanity sweeps over me and
no lack of credentials
can diminish the
beams of unearned praise.

And in this hour of danger
when sinning is acclaimed
I envy the yellow warbler
who easily flies away.
Oh, to have wings that
take me elsewhere
is a freedom I would share.
Let the would-be dictator pound
on yonder chair
but not our backs.

I can see my sins so easily,
regretting their every trace,
wanting more than life can give
restraint is gone, in its place
desire for more -the wanting
is everything I grieve.
If I can see this sinning
of unimaginable greed,
then shouldn’t it be obvious
to all who sway and breathe?

7/2018