She spoke of sodality
with creed, her eyes
concentrated, intent
on the foetus of
my conviction.
I admired the way she stumbled
precariously over pacts,
dragging hands as bodies
until they bled like virgins.
I was nescient though --
humble as she wrapped
me in duplicity,
her fingers crude and
dropping stitches until
I haemorrhaged
through the mesh of us.
She, ever resourceful, finds a plug and
bathes in the suffering of my blood.
Author notes
Prompt: the death of friendship.
NB: The title refers to Elizabeth Báthory.
In a list
A contest entry
- contest for my favorites by Cat.
1400 points, ended January 12, 2008, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I have spent some time just going through and reading some of your other work- you really have a very solid gift with words- your images are well thought out and carried through-
and you have a gift for titles- which attracts me to poetry- the title is the entire send up.. if you don't have that.. forget it..
this is a pleasure to find in my contest.. thanks so much
m

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Amazing!
I can't imagine a more illustrative person to compare her to. Uncle Vlad would be proud of her.lol.
Surgical, indeed, but devoid of anesthesia or mercy.
This is superbly constructed, and perhaps the best condemnation of a lost frendship I've ever read.
Excellent!

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You are far too good to me! And I am grateful - both your poetry and your comments inspire me

Thank you!
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I am in love with this.
I'd like to include this in the second AP book. Please let me know.
Elizabeth

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I'm glad you enjoyed it!

I'm not sure what the AP book is though - could you give me some more information? Sounds impressive!
Thanks for your comment!
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whoa! dictionary time again...lol.
you have the most original way of telling a story.
surgical, almost, in this write.
and friendship never tastes so sweet, as it does after a bloody good row.

good stuff, lady.
as usual.


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Thanks
Surgical was what I was aiming for, especially as the friendship has become so impersonal and pre-meditated. In fact, it's so dead a good row might do it some good!
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no idea who elizabeth bathory is. neither do i have the energy nor the motivation to look her up at the moment. so, through my interpretation of the poem, i liked it, but didn't love it. could be the cold. overall, nice.

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