Saturday, August 15, 2009

Kali Kaddish



you are some bitchin virus girl

a tiki queen

slipping in unseen

and i,

in my delirium,

set the curtains on fire simply by exhaling

as my arm falls limp towards the dazed plank floor;

no more

hey,

where are you going?

in my fever dream, you stepped out of the ganga

dripping wet

i know until now

until yet

you haven't quite infected the me you haven't met...


i keep a little chinese box

with my secret name inside,

behind seventeen locks

and a thimble full of pride--


your ivory earrings sway

when you're kissing me that way,

oh,

not there.

not that.


please,

come back.

__________

10 comments:

pheromone girl said...

You are so above and beyond the best at writing feelings - MY feelings - than I am.

Excellent post! But I think it would be better with a golf cart...

Riot Kitty said...

How did you get the idea for this one? Love it by the way.

Lou said...

Many hands make light the work.

You have been kind of whimsical lately!

Fireblossom said...

I'm glad my poems speak to you, PG. :-) As for the golf cart, it just took it a while to finally arrive...check out the next post. ;-)

I wanted to get animal, RK. Me and Olivia Newton John. Just another slightly different style to express something.

Well, Lou, I hadn't seen this poem as whimsical, though I suppose you could read it that way. Thanks as always for reading and commenting. :-)

Daryl said...

No whimsy there ... what is the opposite of whimsy .. cause that's the park this one is in

Kay said...

Please, allow me a, LOL...I love how your writing brings a smile to my face :D

Pouty Lips said...

Are you talking about the literal death of someone you love in this one?

Fireblossom said...

The poem is about being simultaneously attracted to and desperately afraid of a soul-stealing presence in female form.

*the Succubus smiles quietly to herself*

Jannie Funster said...

And perhaps you also penned The Davinci Code, but had nothing to do with the making of its movie which could not compare to the trunkfuls of thought within the secret chinese humidor of Louvre's promise.

Kelly Dickson said...

duh! i just *got* this! anyway, i love when i need to re-read a poem, this one called me back and i enjoyed it better the 2nd time round... xxx