Wednesday, July 27, 2011

crone



somebody help me help
me please
but I know they're not coming
I am so far
they can't reach me
but then the crone says
good!
thrash and keen with me
sweet lady this is the last
baby
lay down
your tired blade
let those ghosts those thieves
take
take what is yours
we're leaving
and I believe her
and it is a perfume
I press to my chest
you won't miss this masquerade
she says
that music
is for you
you are a goddess
in this skin
you've got coins
strapped to your hips
though there's no price
for this show
oh no I say
I don't know
how this goes
just watch me says she
swing so low
then so
high my feet
touch leaves oh
the swing only
works when
you lean
into it
let it
take you
the way thunder's
untamed rhythm
makes summer
gasp
unravels her
tyrannical corset
pop drop drop
til she glistens
in the wet grass
and the storm is a
strand of pearls tumbling
over her
she can't hide
her blushing breast now
now that you know
we are but shadows in the water
dreaming
softly now
into the heavenly curve
of first words
I tell you
I have always been here
fine and full
in the gilded dirt
of this garden weaving
all along weaving
your swing