
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- |
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
and mind.
I don't have my hours to give to you anymore.
I close my eyes
and dream
while the sky
bursts with white - a light rain -
a layer of water wiped across my skin
even though I'm safe within
the blankets
and when I wake up my body feels heavy,
too 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
who
don't
want
to
see
me.
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
hibernate in;
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 -
something
to wrap
my fingers around.
|
||||||