Honey, you burn my eyes
in the ashen morning.
Your amber color sparkles
behind my white shell lids
and your name sits
on the tip of my tongue,
the taste of last
summer violet rain.
Urban child, you come around;
lighting the red lanterns
on my porch like a ghost,
dropping plum blossoms
on the doorstep because
I told you once that
those are the only memories
of my mother that
I have left after years of
dealing with her
sudden death of pneumonia
when I was eleven.
Boy, you're mysterious and sweet;
the city's in your DNA.
You're the first one I call after 8 A.M.
I say, "Darling, let's get lost tonight
on the streets of a blank
sleepwalker's Chi
I remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has clo
You loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
never worked,
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
sometimes sisters
are more attractive
and all poets are
mongrels
What kind of mother
sends her children out
without their shoes or coats -
nothing but a trail of crumbs
to find their way back home?
They all find their way here.
Maybe it is the scent of holidays
freshly baked inside my kitchen
or the sight of spice drops
glistering in the rampant dusk.
The children like my house -
my rich ginger carpets
so easy to get lost in
and the pink pillows
puffed and glossy with promises.
They do not notice me watching,
how my fingers slip around their wrists
to measure their meager lives
or how I can smell when
they last ate their supper.
They only smile at me
and beg for more chocolate
in greedy little voices
an
The flower beds are drowning
in last night's sweat and rain.
Cat calls echo on the streets
below her window, the sound of
wheels, car horns and people going to work.
The radio echoes her favorite song
on a pencil lead morning;
notes of a Chinese opera,
coming from a simple yet
cozy apartment in Shanghai.
"I'll be right there, darling."
Stepping off the terrace,
she's like the breeze in summer;
orange jasmine seduction.
Beige skirt; knee-length,
showing off her slender legs,
making every dancer jealous.
She is made of dove feathers, creamy poison.
Last time we were together,
she continued sipping her oolong tea,
pretending I had never spoke
Pursued Legends Dialogue Exert by Accio13, literature
Literature
Pursued Legends Dialogue Exert
"We have always been together Sister! Would you send me away with the mortal's women and children? I am not as weak as I once was, as you seem to think I am! No warrior but I matches you in skill!"
"I do not send you away because you are weak, but because I am so. You are precious to me Casidhe, I could not bear the thought of you being harmed among the the armies."
"So you would have me a coward, running as a deer does from hounds?"
"I would have you safe."
"As I would you! Do you think that my love for you is not as deep as the seas? You are the one who came to me in all my illnesses, forsaking your own pleasure to sit at your weak twin
Even though the sky looks different today than it did when I was sixteen;
waking up in an old-fashioned farmhouse,
I still look for pictures in the clouds,
trying to find the toy airplane imagination we once shared.
But by 8 o'clock, I'm already putting on my tie,
getting ready to drive to an office downtown.
Oh boy, if you could see me now,
would you congratulate me on my success
or would you say you're disappointed that I've turned into The Man?
I can't say I blame you if it's the latter, boy.
Remember when we were so against society's rules,
those backwater ideas that we were forced by our parents to live with?
My thoughts drift back to
With one hand, you feed me...
My dreams,
my desires,
everything I ever wanted.
Small pleasures,
wrapped up,
in pastries and sweets.
Fizzy drinks of a heady nectar,
freedom and love,
wound tight in every word.
With the other hand,
you take everything away.
That silver platter dissolving
into nothingness.
All your promises for naught.
I look up at you,
completely baffled,
distraught,
beyond disappointed.
How can you offer
everything you know I crave,
everything you know I need,
everything you know I wanted...
Only to sweep it away,
and pretend you never offered
me anything...?
Is that what friendship