Tuesday, July 15, 2008

The Collector

A collector bought my name from your lips

And wrapped it in a drop of rain

Like a ship in a bottle.

I published his crime in a book of poetry,

Which only emboldened him--

He then stole the softness of your hair from my fingertips.

I had him brought before a judge

On a day when the sun fell through the sky like a coin through a slot--

The judge said she was sick of testimony and contention

And declared a carnival.

I was the wheel, both lofty and low.

The collector was time.

And you,

You were the girl who laughed from a thousand mirrors,

Shook her hair,

And never spoke my name again.



Cynthia said...

Ih, this is sad even for me, you
write to poignantly besutiful
Shayshay, I want you to get and
keep the ultimaste lover, as I
do for myself.

Debi Swim said...

What imagery! This is masterful, Fireblossom.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Ah, not the longed for ending.. but the beauty is in the vision of what might have been.

I love your witchy Fireblossom.

Björn Rudberg said...

Those betrayals written in so few words.. I think when we are betrayed we mostly rage in silence.

Marcoantonio Arellano said...

lovely. a momentary escape.


hedgewitch said...

Sad, bittersweet, because there's always a sweetness to what we have lost, and full of a heart-language that is untranslatable, but clear as morning light--my favorite lines are
"I was the wheel,both lofty and low/
the collector was time..." ain't that the truth.

Timoteo said...

Goosebumps...and I love when that happens.

Marian said...

I was the wheel. Stuck at the top, maybe. Love this.

Stacy Lynn Mar said...

the last stanza is hauntingly reflective.

the play on words in this piece is superb.

oh, and the little witch to the right, she's pretty cute! :)