|Visions of Pearls
Author: Faithless Juliet PM
The swinging single life - I had forgotten what it feels like to be alone.Rated: Fiction T - English - Poetry - Words: 408 - Reviews: 24 - Favs: 4 - Published: 04-13-06 - id: 2152811
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Visions of Pearls
I have become as celibate as a god
entranced like dreams,
the flow of my creation
(like the flow of my blood)
coursing through the hallows of my veins,
a newly christened woman with naked
tree branches growing from her breasts
I don't have my hours to give to you anymore.
I close my eyes
while the sky
bursts with white - a light rain -
a layer of water wiped across my skin
even though I'm safe within
and when I wake up my body feels heavy,
to belong to me.
I came home today
to a wall of photographs (fallen)
a river of cheap black frames
floating atop my mattress
as though to escape the waterfall of walls.
Surely, an omen
of something (else) bad.
Surely, a connection
to the under turned faces
shaping like shadows in my minds eye;
the people I don't see anymore,
and the people
I walked to my car a few hours ago, the low hum
of hard-soled shoes clicking when I heard
an: "Excuse me" from behind, and
when I turned a boy, so tall that he could have been a giant
but younger (I could tell by the eyes) stood before me,
"I don't want to offend you
but do you
have any money so I can get some food"
his cheeks were flushed, and his voice was small like a child's.
I lowered my purse
and gave him all the change I had, just a couple of ones,
I'm sorry, I told him, but that's all I've got.
I watched an old man sit at a table alone
chewing slowly from a plate of bacon and eggs
watching the windows - and chewing -
and looking around for something
unnoticeable to focus on,
the lines of his face etched like candlesticks.
How loneliness becomes a shape
tipping the scales of one's devotion;
a heavy weight; a name brand of hunger,
and shoes, and left over change.
I have a nervous reaction to my present circumstances,
all dressed up
and now where to go,
the type of feeling that you
become so tight that you're like an oyster shell
thrust the edges down
and curl up
until a pearl forms
somewhere between my bellybutton and heart -
my fingers around.