.
the girl on the stage looks
like a composite of me and
my sister, if we were
one person.
but there is no sister, you see
no brother,
no lover
no other.
ashes surround my
blazing burning flashing flickering
chair, incendiary
memories no longer of
any use to me.
that’s where she was sitting when...
he sat to my left the first time we saw...
i’m only here to fill
up my well, i say to the girl on the stage
and, may i borrow your words for a moment,
your rhythm your stories your songs?
i ask.
but it burns to be here and
the tears trickle tepid on my cheeks
while the fucking pictures
dance about in my eyes
to the rhythm of
her guitar and the soft incantations of
her voice.
When i close my eyes i
recall the fire that consumed me
and changed me into this grey
weightless
moth-like matter. seamlessly
i blend in with the ashes
about me
and wait for the song
to end
before making my exit.
.
2 comments:
I like the grey weightless moth-like matter very much, could you tell us more about the fire and how it consumed you/changed you? what were you before?
certainly, the loneliness is expressed here
it's a good question - i think i needed to hear it to stop avoiding the question, knowing that it was missing, i think. now, i have my answer. (wish we could do re-dos on these ;-)
thanks for taking the time "sm" to comment on so many of my poems - i sincerely appreciate the time & interest!
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