Relish
God prefers
free verse
to bound feet
and eats
the fruit
of womanly words
with more relish
than boyish threats
dry and crumbling.
God loves truth
and the round tones
of radical speech
to falsity
and fear
denying
creative lives.
God smells sin
on our breath
like garlic
yet forgives
us when we yell
in His face.
Next time
we may choose
the sweeter
words we
have been given
to the soured
milk of mankind.
Janet Keymetian
Maelstrom
call me Ophelia - do -
for I am beyond the tock,
and though I am not dead I know
all there is to know
of blank spaces - of faces
expressionless for misery -
in snapshot.
scarlet seems redder than blood, redder than death:
even death has its boundaries.
as if symbolic we strain towards the horror words -
horse drawn elaborations of
what we are afraid to know,
and not know: the trappings
of immortality and all that we contain
of truth.
unclarity - like the milky eyes of eternity -
mute and tied to abstractions,
I am more terrified of life, than death.
I have a firm belief in nothingness but not
the strength for lies
nor eccentric little doves flying
south on the wings of an impotent faith.
and so I must become accustomed
to death - and her to me - or,
unable to die I will be
Silence: become the rain,
at times, and
fall.
Veronica Susan Zito
[Previous Page |
Next Page]