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faenum — The Elizabeth Bathory Contrail
Published: 2010-01-12 02:34:31 +0000 UTC; Views: 204; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 13
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Description
The air was sweet like marzipan and the bay,with hard breezes that made your hair
toss and wave like unraveling flags
(it was a small victory because
I love that hair best when it slithers down
your back in currents and tides of brass thread,
free and ecstatic and shapeless).
"But I'm sick of it," I said, "sick of it all."
and your knees were raw and dark
with the grit and sand and summer grass
of our hail mary play:
an iron net of long nails and raccoon eyes,
that curved around to snatch at what we had left.
But you couldn't understand-
you were beautiful, weren't you?
We crossed paths every morning ritual,
and yes you were
(yes like copper and yes like lust),
month after month,
bleeding and always finding your solace
in lipstick and myrrh.
Week after week, longingly I shared you with
clotting baths of physical faith and
in your evening balm,
I was one more mirror.