Waiting under a midnight sapphire sky
Chandeliers of white lilies and lotus –
A petalled, frilly, perfumed canopy
My dreams tangled with sorrow, best buried among the weeds now
Love lying in the graveyard where the crows pick at its bones
Jewels long gone; Tossed into stolen piles of hoarded trinkets
To rust like metal in an angry, vicious sea
This twisted disaster –
Ghosts dancing to a funeral dirge before death bothered to extract its execution
No ritual, no exorcism would have turned grey into color
Weeping words slithered down sun-starved cheeks, while the moon chanced painful glances –
Wondering how to unravel severed veins from pumping, empty hearts
How to find remorse in a vacant vessel
There will be no contented sighs for this discontented fiction –
And tears are better served to authentic paupers, fools and dreamers
Than to this charming, beguiling illusion that deceives the damned
Swarms through blood like bees from their bludgeoned hive
But this trial by fire melts… cauterizes traitorous skin from solid bones –
A cocooned awakening…
Sears the patina from tarnished pupils until fallacy cracks into withered, new-born moons
That coax poetic dancing on the riverbank
Primal, unabashed gyrations that shake specters from a damaged soul
Sensuous flailing… Delicate feet and slender legs, gracious thighs whispering to private gardens
Soft belly, wispy arms, willowy fingers, pillowy breasts, plump mouth, flowing hair –
Moon-kissed skies… lips pressed against hopeful eyes…
A new season of voluptuous photographs
A new breeze through the open window
Upon which burnt words disperse, then crumble into dust that coats the tumbleweeds in this arid desert
Rolling away from this sacred border onto the parched landscape of forgotten dreams
Where the sun will bake their spiky bristles into brittle nests
That the magpies snap and gather, to carry off into the trees of yesterdays archives
What remnants remain of another lifetime, wrapped in iridescent stars –
Tossed into the sky for the sun to keep…
Waiting under a midnight summer sky
Chandeliers of purple-sweet lilacs
Their breath blooming dreams in the garden and on my lips
Tears ground up in the drain until the switch broke
Sutures dissolving in a thousand quiet, unblessed wounds
The moon whispers mystery into my ear, brings new words for my calloused fingers to leak
Time is turning over on itself
The ache is now a constant, dull shadow, a spirit storm tolerable but deserving of a funeral
The shovel is where he left it
I have avoided those small atrocities that he left behind –
There are no angels concerned with loves small atrocities
But summer is fleeting and Fall must not be abandoned to heartless acts
So beneath falling silvery stars that burn deep ravines in the lavender stained sky
I am an eclipse, a shadowed summer, filtered through a ripe, late sun lens
My inky pupils my brooding pen, burning skeleton images onto crisp linen, coffee-stained pages
Writing lyrical requiems until the last dead give up their ghosts
And the moon births my eyes
Theater of Sorrows 