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K. Eltinae
http://keltinae.purpledream.com |
Rosary Bride
06/10/04 |
She smiles.
Trapping souls in the droplets she collects.
Finding, choosing, saving, keeping
Red, brown, beige, silver and black
The rosaries bring the memories back
The strings bind loyal as confidantes
Yet still she hasn't managed to
Decide on what she wants
She prays dutifully,
Believing,
It takes time.
She lines her suitors carefully,
Stringing them along,
One after the other,
They never struggle against her fingers,
They always trust her polished touch,
They have found the idyllic home,
They've dream of sharing with her so much.
Except their eyes are fixed at an angle,
Only she controls by prayer,
They look inside of her,
And discover nothing's there.
Her hands dispense the comfort,
The beads solicit like food,
But still for her they are never any good.
She retreats to the window,
Where she counts imperfections like rain,
Wishing so often
That she wouldn't have to explain.
"I keep them for prayer"
She replies,
To the casual visitor,
Rapt by the snakes,
Strewn across her soil.
The flat stare of death grips them,
Like a common touch,
They cannot resist.
She wraps her rosaries around her wrists,
Convinced the past is sealed like a burial crust,
Against decades of fevers and passions,
She has learned to never trust.
Imagining the valor,
Of accepting a man,
Like the god she fears and loves,
And depends upon
Without really ever knowing.
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Cabbages
07/09/04 |
I remember the moment when I knew for sure,
I sat gawking at your knees,
Jutting like fists,
Twin cabbages,
Two stubborn minds made up,
You were counting numbers,
Until my tongue slipped into a sea,
Of all the things you'd done for me,
The blame washed in and settled
I had used my last chance,
And your words could no longer save me.
I remember your quivering knees,
Like the knobs of two doors,
I listened to your moist hands,
Breathe and sweat,
Sans regret.
You have two hearts,
Who have never come to terms with each other.
They are wrapped in inches and inches of cabbage skin,
They are dangerously polar.
You've kept them apart
Auctioning each discretely,
But I am secretly afraid for you,
I hear them snap and lock,
Snarling, like the kept prisoners they are,
Your smile is growing less and less convincing
Nothing will save you from the floor.
I stare closely at your knees,
Willing their chambers free,
Once your last words descend,
I hear each of your hearts explode.
Your expression is a picture,
Collapsing like a yielding tent,
The floor beckons to you.
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Choix
08/11/05 |
Baloola - I am tired of your dancing.
Your dirty coat and it's dull sheen,
Never reproved for the things you mean.
You flash your grin like wet paint across wounds,
I am freed from your spell,
It is over at last.
You thought I was a glove-puppet,
Controlled by the gods you fear,
You thought I was a kite,
That would soar then crash.
You passed your judgments way too fast.
I pretended to love a part of you i saw in myself.
I washed behind my ears, the way you prescribed
But still I heard the voices.
They offered me the truth, the only exit.
To forget you... No!
That would be senseless
I would continue living marked by our cognizance.
To acknowledge you...
Would bring forth efforts I'd much rather reserve.
The way a dam feels comfort,
In the pressure it holds back.
I will tack you to the inside of my heart,
The throbbing of that lesson will remind me
Always to keep myself to myself.
If you ever manage to stand still,
Listen to your voice...
It is never easy to rid yourself of baggage,
Even the holes embrace nostalgia like home.
Sadly most of the passions of this life,
We can never truly disown,
Friendship.
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