and weeping, i make my way
all the way back to me and seek
that voice that cried 'one more time'
and every time i say,
'this is the last time'
(but we all know, i'll come back
again, taking two steps further
than i did before in my misplaced veil
of grief; and doomed --
Ruby swaps places with Scarlett
who revealed the sticky tar
of my young veins. i draw new roads
as we were strangers on that train)
doomed: i see all the horrors
like they are fresh cuts and i blow
the dust from their spines and sob --
it is a true sob story to see
Garnet and Amber trailing behind;
and i imagined your young bride
such a gorgeous lily corpse in her reeds
and watery lungs gone to seed
plunging to her seabed to sleep and finally dream --
it's happening again
i can't remove my tarnished fingers
from my wounds and splaying their frayed edges
-- i'm doomed --
like so many ladies before me --
turn to lick the wounds and sigh:
its spasmic song gone and the water
washed my ears and there was silence:
i dreamed of dying and i was fine.
(03/03/2017)
YOU ARE READING
THE OCEAN
Poetry'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
