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consecrated
by Rachelle Howeyour wounds taste like garlic, and thyme.
i like to swallow them, sometimes.
you've been locked in Pandora's box and i have
pulled you asunder,
raked you under
my fingernails and you've
poured the blood down my back.
but ours is a sacred romance, and
i've been kept a locksmith, those
intricacies have nailed their coffins, they've
been my stigmata, they've
screamed for my crucifixion while you
stand naked in the crowd.
but i will wake every morning
and breathe my final breath,
die a broken man
with your name on my lips. 09/09/2004 Author's Note: for rita. every second of every day.
Posted on 09/10/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Richard Paez on 09/10/04 at 07:53 PM Raggy! This is SACRED! The second stanza capsized me. The first stanza sets it up perfectly, and then it comes, the second stanza, flooding, and the third is the next day, the sun reflecting of the puddles that remain. Great images and juxtaposition, the locks and nails metaphors are used perfectly and I just can’t say much more. Thank you for sharing this luv, Rita is a lucky girl. |m| Oh, and btw, the title is perfect--I love a title that's indivisible from the poem itself. Lovely. I'd like to hang on this cross myself for a month, and eat the vultures that ate me, and be born again through this consecration. |
| Posted by Karl Waldbauer on 09/10/04 at 08:01 PM Spiritual, powerful, vivid, and full of love...so very excellent! |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 09/14/04 at 03:30 AM I could feel the stake of loss as it passed into my heart. Thanks for sharing these sorrow-laden words. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 09/15/04 at 10:59 PM take each death as it comes, one breath at a time - heart-shaped box
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