Desdamona 2004
When the moon is full I write with invisible ink
It slides down my page onto my legs
Invades my private space
Leaving traces of ink to sink into my lunar legacy
Words capture me like winged freedom inside a butterfly net
Bitter sweet captivity
Words
The only things that still me
Sooth me
Cure me
Kill me
My wings powdered delicately
Laced with my dangerous emancipation
If I could truly be all I was meant to be
You just wouldn’t believe
When the moon is at three quarters
Life seems shorter
A cup almost full of water
Minus one swallow
Swallow sings on sultry, slippery seams
Of what is and what used to be me
Song bird sing to me
While the moon is but a sliver
A sharp slice of peace
I feel empty
Darkness invading my privacy
Moon always watching me
And while the moon is fraternizing with her midnight sky
My eyes open wide to see if I might find some of her secrets
She twists the tides and turns them into seasons
Each wave
One of her reasons for being
And me and my body of water is imprisoned gracefully by her gravity
She can only confine but never truly capture me
She births and nurtures me
Buildings burdens to flirt with me and my capacity to endure
She is pure divinity
Placed in my sight to remind me
That she will remain here long after I leave
A mother
So inclined to outlive her offspring
A mother so divine she will outlive her offspring
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2 comments:
Wow! Will you do this one with music? I love it.
I have done it with music...along with my friend, trueboy...but he doesn't live here anymore.
I would probably do it again sometime.
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