"Uncage me. Hidden underneath my flesh are dreams disguised as bones."
hover, hover softly little hands
this sea is broken-open-sealed-shut
with each and every breath it takes.
My heart stutters as the canoe tilts again.
Mumma take my hand!
She barely hears my voice.
Words floating overhead
swift columns of air separating.
She is a pinprick on the shore.
I swing my paddle
moving farther out,
The sun is melting, the sky is orange,
losing its fire.
Fireflies are crouching
beneath finger-like leaves
their bright dance flashing across my eyes.
The silence here is supposed to wake me,
that’s what I was told.
The woods are here to balm the resurrected cold within me.
I cannot help but feel more alone,
my silence is only beautiful in theory.
they say the eyes do all the talking
spark-plug freckles fly
around the holy rims of dual sapphires
that equate heroines in operas
with the blue Consuelas.
sugar crystals knuckle cavities
trying to plunge into the depth
of those candy-crushed dimples,
to weigh the carat of a smile.
blinking, and then opening to arrive at the swords
of a Maybelline ambush:
the fanning of the dark cabling,
the feature of our discord.
He held her just under the surface, the sunlight still warm on her scalp, the tip of his foot pressing down just above her forehead. Her body a flailing dance, her arms a thrashing language…and all she needed was that hand to pull her, instead he kept his arms for himself and his foot pressing firmer and firmer still on her head. She was a fighter, but she also knew when to release…so she ended the pain with a hypnotic trick of breathing that quietly drowned her…her last vision that of sunlight engulfing his murderous figure.
Submerged and embraced by the murky bottom, her pale body slowly shifted back to a womb curl. Days and nights rolled with tides, her body calcifying, her hair mimicking anemone hiding for aquatic life. Under an overcast sky ablaze with heat lightning, a dark hand crawled from beneath the waterbed, gliding over and under her body…pausing from time to time and then continuing the cycle. It was there though, the persistence of that dark hand, a soft pulse was found…near death, the peace of sleep. It broke into her chest the same way it came through the murky bottom, taking her heart into its palm, fingers massaging, blood pumping, and then ripping it from her cavity and placing it to her mouth, forcing strength and resilience down her throat in each drop of blood squeezed from her pumping heart. Placing it back into its rightful spot, the dark hand cauterized the wound before raising her to the surface, lungs re-imagining their function until she broke the surface….screaming with such pain, anger and fear, betrayal and frustration, the lightning bolts exploded….shattered glass littering the sky….tree roots and branches shifting and contorting….birds flew backwards….and then silence…
…an enveloping silence of a stark white field blanketed in snow, flurries descending in percussion, her black draped body kneeling, her hands holding her face as she wept…openly wept to the symphony of crocus breaking the frozen earth and blooming through the biting cold…