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Dissolution

by Ingrid Canuel 2 months ago in performance poetry

A sestina

I kissed you with quiet eyes

Before you uttered the fated line

That set samsara’s gears into motion.

This dream is no different from any other.

Men’ve dreamt this version many a-time:

Where serpentine love embodies incandescent light.

With honey swallowed, we’re bathed in light.

What’s defilable by words, I memorize with human eyes.

The bond between thieves will in time

erode. For now, let’s keep ourselves in line,

whispering poems into the ear of the other

while you pickpocket my heart in a swift motion.

Eighty verses in ninety-six days. Singing the motion

Of being, the sensation of holding, in my arms, light.

In the evening we coalesce. Realize: there is no ‘other’

As we spiral into intimacy away from prying eyes.

At the door, the key sings its glorious line.

We enter into our dream, our corridor of time.

A banquet of verses stalls for time

Since palms carry fate, we trace, absorbing every line.

Bourbon nights, tangible joy in slow motion,

Our converged form ravaged by violent delights.

We consume, uninhibited, with masked eyes

Until dawn divides us from each other.

We arose from Mephistopheles’ lasting conceit, others

Begin rooting through time

Fear reflected in trembling eyes:

At sea; orchestrated reticent motion;

Heaving against transient light;

Skirting around intrusion’s line.

Earth-bound, on line

His permanent vow of silence, another

Reminder of waning light.

The breath, the final indicator of clock-time

His human machine now devoid of motion

Sadness came to live in my eyes

Under fluorescent light, I said our parting line:

“You’ll see me as long as we have eyes for each other.”

Then the hands of time halted their motion.

performance poetry

Ingrid Canuel

A filmmaker and photojournalist based in Cologne, Germany.

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