She no longer recalls or feels
Freedom is not a concept
The curve of her back is wired
with filament and straw fills
the space that held a heart
Constructed for crows her limbs
are stripped of flesh
her pupils fixed in the dark.
Her lips are strung with suffering
she no longer speaks because
there are no words that
cut deep enough.
I will always disappoint you
my verse is no where near roses
pigment stained and tear smudged
overflowing with sudden downpours
a spiraling monsoon that can
not be held back with the tenderest
I tell lies lovingly
each line a litany of devotion
or a buzzed serendipity.
I will fall in love with the sleeved
heart of every poet.
Save me from obscurity, give me a purpose
sugary rose petals or the embryo
of a pearl washed ashore.
When I miss you
I become so small my body
could fit into the heart of a
sea bird begging salt with
its pulpy tongue. The scent of
sandalwood remains in a discarded
shirt tossed over a bed post where
I return and return.
The clouds unravel and tears rain
down in shades of eventide.
Keep me close in your heart like
the beating of a rhythmic railway
traveling snow covered alps
or the black tar of far off foothills.
Wide walls of
water tumble into deep pools
spilling over slippery quartz.
Grasping at jagged edges
She steps onto the mossy sludge,
sinks into soggy pockets of
Slender fingers grab at veiny
pulleys of the forest yet when
She reaches they resist.
The water is screaming indignation,
a fury thrashing upon stone,
Penance for thwarting
it’s downward path and there is
no way to console them.
Retribution is why She comes here,
a pounding retaliation,
the sting of needles on her back
stones soothed by wrath.
Waiting for you became a ritual,
listening for the sound of your footsteps
in the pounding rain.
The taste of salt still remains
upon my lips where you left it
and in dreams you are evoked
by the wings of seabirds where I have
pressed our memory.
At daybreak the tide retreats without
leaving you at my shore and it is
there I accept loss.
At the hollow of my throat I have etched
your name somehow declaring us sacred.
Folded beneath white caps
shards of crystals stack in layers.
Seaweed tentacles abandon their grip,
letting go of their bed they are
swept away by the tide snared by sea oats
stranded in the dunes.
A shroud of melon melts down the vista.
Seafaring specters bob in the distance
drifting apparitions that vanish
in the haze, lost to the horizon.
Seagulls hover between sea and sky,
wingtips graze the watery glass,
skimming, plunging, their throaty caws
console the lonely sea.
I’ve become a cove girl,
my pockets filled with shells
with limbs tied
My words I have bartered
for moonlight streaming
down my throat.
Wrapped in it’s light
I barely imprint
Let us be specks
in an immense world where
for you are my universe.
These wet walls echo with sighs
it’s been eons since they’ve heard
the moans of lovers.