|
higher than the moon, oh sinners
by Rachelle Howeshe looked into
medusas eyes
one too many times.
she turned to stone and i
unfroze her eventually.
it took a chisel and
one too many kegs of
C4 for me to even make a dent,
but such was the way
of such a calloused bitch.
forgive me,
for i've laid the offerings
to the sun and asked
the moon to keep
the trespassing sign at bay.
she said, gladly,
as she shone through
the stain glass windows and
lifted the trees with barren hands.
i had laid myself down,
laid down low,
laid these things
at the feet of so many
fallen angels, and they too
spit with the best.
i needed a chewing glass,
needed a glass jar,
needed the world to drink me in.
but she was an onion skinned lover,
and i was a machete mistake.
i failed, something that i
was resigned to do
since the beginning.
i kissed her sweet lips
one last time and was
lost in the reverie.
(hallelujah. amen.) 12/18/2003 Author's Note: brought to you by my dear, dear paul.
Posted on 12/18/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 12/18/03 at 06:12 PM Ohhh, so exquisite. I hear pipe organs. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 12/18/03 at 07:24 PM Love the images. There is a bittersweet tone to this poem that mixes love and hate... I have always been told that there is a fine line between love and hate and the only true opposite to love is apathy. Great read. |
| Posted by Karen Michelle on 12/19/03 at 09:04 AM That was something else. |
| Posted by Mara Meade on 12/19/03 at 07:49 PM This was my favourite line, too, but the whole poem was viciously beautiful:
i had laid myself down,
laid down low,
laid these things
at the feet of so many
fallen angels, and they too
spit with the best.
I like the way the title seems draped in old linens but the poem is very fresh. |
| Posted by Mainon A Schwartz on 12/20/03 at 06:10 AM Meep. As so often happens with my very favorite poems, I find myself wanting to tweak it, cause it inspires me. This bubbles, fizzes, and makes me hope the cork of your creativity is never, ever found. :-) This is drunk-ifying. |
| Posted by Anne Boulender on 02/04/07 at 05:39 PM this rules for so many reasons.
"it took a chisel and
one too many kegs of
C4 for me to even make a dent,
but such was the way
of such a calloused bitch."
and for everything everyone else has already said too.
|
|
