Friday, August 15, 2008

For The Red Queen


I had complaints.

I laid them all in a row like cooling pies.


A wind came up.

It hailed blackbirds.


They flew in,

They fell out, heavy as stones.


Oh, come to me, come to me now,

Embrace me with your arms of smoke,

Tell me everything

While the birds lie stunned and stupid outside...


But your mouth is full of rain clouds and the birds recover and fly inside;

That's when I know

They weren't birds, they were bats.


What we are is macabre.


Don't come here sunday--

Leave me to sit under my mulberry tree

With tea, and a magazine;

My cheek unbloodied

By the sharpness of your kiss.

_______________________________

6 comments:

Cynthia said...

Whoa, I can name one person this
poem needs to be sent to, if they
were lucky enough to have me still
speaking to them!

You are going very deep of late,
sweet Shay.

Marty said...

"My cheek unbloodied
By the sharpness of your kiss."

Great ending line!

Fireblossom said...

It's indeed a fine and lucky thing to be spoken to by you, Miss C!

Yes, I've been saying some things out loud that I had only had stewing within, until recently.

As always, I love it when you visit and comment, Cynthia. Merci!

Fireblossom said...

Thank you, sir, I had the idea of vampire bats as a metaphor for people who suck the life out of a person, all the while masquerading as something benign, like birds.

It's nice to see you back here again, Marty. :-)

C. Elizabeth said...

I love the image of black birds and the other images in this poem. It flows nicely from one act to another. Nice :)

ps- thanks for the comment I'll be back very soon

Fireblossom said...

Glad you liked my birdies. Nice to see you!