Creatives

Embers

heavy velvet whispers in a thick voice

to my ear the absence of light romances

the hot adrenaline: impregnate dark veins.

he says? or we say

I curse it as it swells and eddies,

but deny not its fluctuating tidal cape

a curtsy. So many

bodies huddle,

curl around embers, piercing the night. So many

prayers.

I’ll unclasp my hands once our knees are bent,

heads bowed

the pearls of piety.

I beseech the curtain to breathe,

to open wide and set upon the black table an offering: emaciation

Upon these bones we shall string ourselves, and hang ourselves haughtily

for we know that we are the few who hold knives with loyalty to a missing eyelash

And we point them towards the crowd but turn when they blink and cut ourselves

He said, “cut her.”

so it goes.

kiss and caress her carcass and then look slowly up to the face the sun

and his blue eyes.

And we bleed and he turns away and we follow his gaze

and we lie draped across the ground

legs and used-to-be white sheets and bony youth.

Poised inside our barm, we are

waiting to be happy.

 

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