August 12, 2010
So you took your shoes and left...
Converse with time,
Lusting for that aging night, once more:
The night crouches over the city, tucking her bridal skirt in
As her hungry mouth licks on the silenced statues--
The wolves welcome their kin.
Her eyes search for my moronic lover;
As the moon wanes behind the cloudy sheets
She pants, as her breath embraces the wailing rivers
And wraps her body around the yellow streets
Insects seethe in her underbelly
As the dancing leaves blow back her hair
She lashes her tongue at the vengeful windmills
There, screeches in anger, the bicorn mare.
And the wind mourns in misery
And the raven seeks its prey
Bianca’s nightingales sing in the distant, while
On the riddled streets, the night snakes her way
And though this graveyard will have another visitor,
And our visitor will stay,
"His epitaph will be written in blood", she whispers,
"For his is the soul who betrayed"
I’ve met people
Of different colours—
Blue, green, violet, maroon
I’ve met eyes
Of different shapes—
Cubes, cuboids, circles, triangles
I’ve spoken to tongues
Of different dialects—
Minowoh, Ginowa, Blah blah, Bli na
What are we,
but jaw, fingers, spine and knee?
Swathed in aging flesh
Naked bones spell naked truth
Will the dust on these bones remember:
The colour of flesh that covered them,
The jaw which spoke that particular tongue,
Or the memories which were made while being
what they stood as on ground?