Grazed
Her skin is rumbled with oak
in the red; her lessened and bent over form,
her mouth of bitch wood,
jewelled in the ruby bulbed
beat of the bath tub.
The sins of her shins are in jeans stitched up and patched up; the clods of her feet tucked under
her rocking chin to knee.
“I still remember the colour of the path in the rain. I’ll be
silent under the hammock of these years,
curl my conscientiousness in the protection of,
but you ask for that instead of
and I do not wish to bore you with the pain, cracking my girl charms
in the sun.
I remember the colour of running but I’ll be
these precious lips shut tight
for there is always the remaining colours
of you
here to remind me.”
Leaning into the cold excite of the morning,
the girl is in mildew; a lake stroked with the season of birds –
pearl grey ribbons mirrored in the undertow. (She is a man
left behind,
remains of what is left behind.)
“In the places I should be plain, I exhibit,
in the sentences I should explain, I inhibit
and they say the change will come
for these tempered lungs of my youth to bloom,
to fruit as other's do
but I need a few days away to.
I need a few.”
( Why do you not flick your hair into the sun?
Why do you not bite your bottom lip
as the other girls do?
Why do you not peel your shoulders
and make do as they do?
And if you do not now, then why did you?)
“I need a few days away to make tender
the silence;
the hare sprung impulse to desire,
the alcohol of the square at night
with its youthful crashes and painters
who coloured my jeans an absinthe rust -
pulled up from covering up -
I need a few days to make silent
this.
I have in my bag, a curiosity of nothing;
lipstick, kohl and scent
but I still remember the smell of the half light
coming through the trees
and now it is spent.”
Outside of all this
is a clot of wet sand, pressed into
a wing; jet black,
behind. She dreams of a beach drained,
the cold air taken to the sea,
herself slipping, running;
oil in her throat.
Marianne Louise Daniels
Mon 5th Nov 2012 13:58
Thank you for your comments folks x
Mikhail - complicated is far too subtle a word for what i am ;-)