Pint size
volcano,
still bubbling.
I gave up my efforts to quench its thirst.
Had to accept the hard evidence
its hard link to earth’s core,
my pathetic human efforts embarrassing.
“Don’t give up,”
she encouraged.
“Will I ever succeed?”
“Never,”
and she was all over me once more
scalding my tender flesh into raw meat.
“Fairy...”
“Yes?”
“Are fairies human?”
I shouldn’t have asked,
or maybe I should have asked earlier.
Inside one night I graduated in biology, mineralogy, astronomology...
“Hey, you’ve mixed up your sciences.”
I lifted my head from between... wherever,
looking at her.
“I’m creating a new one, for you.”
She accepted the compliment with a sigh
(it was not compliment, it was fact)
and pushed my head back between... wherever.
She was ready to put me through hell again,
bubbles, ash, lava absorbing me anew.
Not much flesh left on my bones,
dying was such pleasure.
“Fairy...”
“Yes?”
“Are fairies allowed to fall in love with humans?”
“If they insist. Do you insist?”
“Do I have to?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
I let her teach me the rest of the sciences.
Then she found a last spot of unblemished skin on my body
and made sure to burn it as well.
I was in pain. In love.
“Fairy, do you love me?”
Vanity is at times one’s worst enemy.
She set to prove it to me all over again,
the pint size volcano my gaol, my dungeon, my heaven.
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Comments
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hmm. i really don't know what to think about this one.
on the one hand, i really like it because you have some stellar lines/truth's in here and i like how the title fits in with the poem.
on the other hand, talking to something...calling it "fairy"...doesn't really fit this poem..to me anyway.
and i like some daloge in poetry..but this almost takes it too far.
idk. thanks for entering.
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Khmmm... I lifted my head from between... wherever, and I found poetry. Volcano... you probably found the hottest core and the source of it and you are still alive. Yes, you are right, nobody can know us better than a person who share with us "the rest of the sciences" and... the rest is your poetry.
~Sonja~
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I once wrote a small poem about people seeing (in me) only the calm surface of the sea, while underneath, a volcano raged. Gorgeous, as always. Good luck in the contest, Scribe.
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