and granite fades,
but I look to my closed eyes and
you are a pen on apothecary paper,
a curl lying sharply.
time will tell if
our paths cross over
sticks unformed and
unmistaken.
time has waxed
epistolary.
crushed and salty
the needles blocking,
all we'll do is
see and unsee,
draw the fringes to cover us.
they press darkly over the
bones of our noses.
oh it's the weight of a well!
let the wheels speak, we could
we could walk away,
our sleeves admit. and yours
hold high the budding ink upon
your forming hands. (violets-tiled! fleur
point and my
apostle-wright)
when the lancet's carbon is not so young
it will fall and print its own leaves.
however courage is a much simpler thing.
it will be born never
or now.
and to map our cheeks
we must own the missing hands of swans,
what to do? -
the needle's hung with thread.
A contest entry
- the crescent of maternal moon by Pamela A Lamppa.
1050 points, ended December 1, 2008, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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"time has waxed
epistolary."
A key line. This piece verges on abstracts yet holds a reader's vision. I am nearly hypnotized reading it and want more and more and more
THAT is a good thing.
Wonderfully visual and gentle, yet a firm hand has gripped your pen and watered its words on the page. Nice word. I enjoyed this very much. Thank you. ~Pamela
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There's a strong sense of drama here, with intricate, original metaphors. "Time will tell," and "we could walk away," but "it will be born never or now" (clever reversal of the usual phrase) and "the needle's hung with thread" (I really like that one)--the anticipation is highly charged.
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Oh the depth here is outstanding.
Well done here and best of luck in the contest.
Delila
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Thank you! a wonderful prompt.
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