by Linda M. Crate
slipping through the cracks
i fell through the keyhole
gracelessly without effort,
quicksilver blossoms of rain
were my only company
for your love left me long ago
in an exile longer than the
arms of the ocean whose hold
on me was great until she
eroded away all sense of ego;
declared war with the stars
and every child of summer's tongue
i made a promise to become
the key to her undoing so here i am
blossoming with flames of rage
that only summer's children are equipped
with; i beat her back into her cage
snarled at every tooth of the moon until
he turned yellow with cowardice,
and ran back into the folds of where night
is hidden from day —
you sent me a letter the other day
telling me how happy you are with her,
i burned it like i did the ocean
maybe you tasted the flames in my countenance
when you looked at the crimson sunset.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
"By Grand Central Station I sat down and wept: I will not be placated by the mechanical motions of existence, nor find consolation in the solicitude of waiters who notice my devastated face. Sleep tries to seduce me by promising a more reasonable tomorrow. But I will not be betrayed by such a Judas of fallacy: it betrays everyone: it leads them into death. Everyone acquiesces: everyone compromises..." (Part Ten, By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept, Elizabeth Smart, 1945)...we send each other letters and burn them too, isn't that what our work is? That and not compromising??? You have a great gift there, Ms Crate, may it do Much Good...in a World of Compromise and Betrayal...Our crimson Burning World..!
ReplyDelete