Month: May 2017

The final days.

1.
Skylights above

the end of the world
shine light on the words
of the prophecy.
I can’t tell you how much I care
or I may die.
You may die.
And I care so much
it hurts.

2.
Shadows haunt me.

Nothing to protect me.
No one understands.
Death touches me
in my living room.
I still don’t want to die,
but seeing you cry
makes me know
I can
if that’s what it takes.

3.
I am the lamb.

A little child
leads me
through the shadows.
No arrows
can pierce me.
My sacrifice was made
long ago.

4.
Arrows above

the flow
of my dress
guide me to you.
I follow because I know
who you are.
You are the boy
who thinks he loves me.
The man who loves me
sees it
in your eyes.

5.
I can’t stand to see

you there,
drowned in the pool
of our pities,
for even if I love you,
I can’t put breath
back into
your beautiful
face.

6.
The dress encircles you like my heart

and I am risen,
revived by your veneration.
As the music swells
I reach for you,
soon to die,
to fly away
and send them all back
where
they came from.

7.
Dying

only made me more
secure
in my beauty,
in my strength,
and you can’t take
that
from me.

cut off my face
serve it up for dinner
for beauty exists
only
if you can taste it

     *     *     *

A flute trills the night air,
sorrowful notes
of my existence.
I blend into the wallpaper,
no flowers
or stripes to stand out
against the background.

You see through me,
my despair stuffed
like laundry into
a canvas bag,
dirty and wrinkled,
smelling of sweat.

Rag dolls and
stuffed animals,
past lives comfort me
as I melt into thin air,
the notes of my flute
seeking audience
so I won’t be so alone.