by Sana Khalesi
beneath the spell of your hazel eyes breathing
when right-or-left choices of
death or dying
arise
a glare
a caution
with a respite on the cushion of your lips
or when
the innocence of your heart
rips
my only belonging
and departs
with a 4-foot hole
in my still stale moth-eaten soul
oh trail me
regale me
seek this sick-me
with your equilateral longing legs
seek your poison snogs
on my lost-in-smoke-and-ashes lungs
TRASH me!
and turn this crude cremation
into Louisiana Iris
and TRASH
all the bridges
from Shiraz to Paris
and TRASH
memories, reveries, treacheries
all gracious photos
and post-hardcore songs of EMERY
while nodding your hideous head
while sipping your afternoon coffee,
while listening to your only insanity-plea
peering to your vicious voice, uttering:
"oh oui oui!"
there's no ME,
NO WE!
and you are propelling
another mistress, Dionysus
with curly creamy short-cut hair
smiling
lost in her castle-in-the-air
smiting
peeling avocado pear
with your tender solicitous care
and I –
now dust –
beneath your steps
and missteps
giving an ear to Joan Baez's "Diamonds & Rust":
"...smiling out the window of the crummy hotel over washington square"
I dare
I dare you
pretermit me
by giving your fictitious look
a more factual gloss
in my loss!
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HEAVY !
ReplyDelete"...4-foot hole
in my still stale moth-eaten soul" ... !
So strong, like an Auguste Rodin of Words; you're sculpturing in text with your chisel of passion, like you'd work and shape the surface of a crude diamond beyond it's possible molecular structure ... and you succeed !
...I'm still not completely "friend" with the poem, as there's such a rich variety of interpreting angles, I find...
Good and interesting poetry is like that sometimes; like unique and interesting people; it got layers, and levels upon levels ... and one gotta take time with it.
Thanks for sharing, and thanks for guiding me here !