Prosthetic

My soul prosthetic, I wear it upon my amputated limbs

on a devoir to need basis

I transmutate it around in my vast tinctured wardrobe,

Ready-to-wear, wrinkless, pristine — but for the stain of brandy,

Imbibed in the shards of a cobalt blue — champagne flute

Changeling, prismatic amputee, found in the variegating aseptic,

intersection of The Guf

Somewhere between the barren boulevard of the Tree of Souls, and

the serpentine, eastern Curb of Eden

Gabriel, directs the traffic as I oscillate the freeway

Delayed for my preconceived rendezvous with Lailah

The climb arderous, I trip up on the rachitic, seventh step of Jacobs stairwell

My blepharoplasty, annulled, neglectfully adumbrating, as I knock on the doors of a cavernous Columbarium

No response, the skeletal passkey missing —

God is out for the day —

Sign reads, Please, leave a message, with the front desk — response time, indefinite,

Hurried chromasity stymied, casting lots, the Treasury takes a siesta.

Att: Dr Mehmetyildiz — - thank you.

Summarize