Maria Beck “Power to Love” A christening A sleeping Beauty Waits another century Her hair grows and the birds comb and wash it
By Abigail Sire 2 years ago in Poets
A small child with his eyes closed slowly takes apart an apple in his hand, Languidly, choosingly, lolling it around his mouth.
An abandoned front A cold emptiness a stark reality Horizon is undone, Buckled and reemerging behind
Ghosts. Colorful souls seen in the blink of an eye of a drunken stumbling home - Names come to him even as they came n and out of visions – a red one -
They weren’t good dancers But swayed and careened and fell in each other’s arms - Laughing, cackling her freshly manicured nails digging into his suit -
A small booth A cheap one – sure but they were finally alone. Her in a cheap new dress and red lipstick He in a cheaper suit – reeking of cologne
A pair infinitely cast – a search - An undoing of fate where are you! Where are you – a haunting exhaustion
Small, rocking panic attack. She’s done this before - Lifting herself up enough, Switch change ball to heel,
A strange heaven with three clocks Telling no time – a knockoff Mickey Mouse Careens over the hiccupping,
From Architectural Immanence Dancing Notes follow the tune – Played, strung by the illustrious, painted fingers D, f – on the treble
A hallway – a reckoning – a black beacon Spirits with white, ghost cloaks swim in the black sky. A shadowy figure consumed a white – outline -
The tree at the end of the universe Is dying – wilting – strands of Root bursting through another’s tear. The eagle watches on.