in a frame
maybe in oils
or pastels?
something with class i hope
what would they say
those critics
that wander the shined halls
and point out the flaws and flakings
of portions of soul that have been
temporarily trapped
on some stretched canvas
would they comment on my face
the cast of my eyes
or the meaning behind my stance
what do you think when you see me like this
huddled over some hidden wound
laughing as if
i was throwing up air
with the sharp ends of my eyes
hidden in moisture and shadow
the loose strands of my hair
drifting around my face
as if unsure if they can fly
do you find me-frightening?
some creature caught for a moment
in the half-light of this twilight reality
a crazed combination of woman and child
am i -even in this state- beautiful
to you
thats all that matters
to you
do you still want to slide me
against your heart
dropping kisses like stamps
on my shaking head
approving of me because i am myself?
or am i- fearful thought-something foreign
unfamiliar to your widened eyes
that pull back from me
as surely as your fingertips
while i climb into myself
and this darkness
like some sea-floor resident
crawling into her hiding place
What would you say
if you caught me at this moment
on the cold concrete
wandering along the avenues
of fear and frenzy
laughing at the shadows
because i recognized them
and knew that in a battle against myself
i would always lose
would you dare...
to love me?
2 comments:
is it possible for me to read your poems and not have crystal clear mental images? answer: yes.
but not thus far. best lines, "laughing as if i was throwing up air."
with class.
understating her elegance.
i sob against the canvas.
placing my wracked-twisted form over hers.
agonizing over those soft-shard tendrils of hair.
escaping from my paintbrush. as if they wish they could fly.
screams hack their way through my palette knife.
and my throbbing. dripping rust in my hand.
i place my heart over yours.
wretched. i sob.
beautiful.
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