On a bed spiced with my body
I can hear mechanical vultures
Yanking threads on their morbid mobile
Above the paint-chipped crib.
In the darkest blue of the room,
In some discarded corner o the cell,
A ceramic doll makes eyes at me
Through and eyeless head,
It wears it’s dainty fingers
Strung up around his neck.
My gorilla fingers grab at sheets,
At pictures, at letters,
And move on to things I cannot hold:
Scents, whispers, days.
Like brackish water through my fingers,
Leaving only silt that fills my prints.
I think,
I think the dawns take pieces of me,
But I will live on in sparrow bone words:
My small, graying song against demise.
We hadn’t even chosen a name.
A contest entry
- To find ugly meanings in beautiful things is to be corrupt without being charming -Oscar Wilde by Aesthete.
700 points, ended June 18, 2007, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Very, very odd. I think its good. But I would suggest removing gorilla fingers. Maybe I'm immature but it makes me laugh and I dont think that was your intent. Other than that it seems you accomplished what you sought with words. Thanks for entering
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