Pocketknife

The cut`s deep
  his child bride gone from
    alabastar to a bleak bombshell

Not so easy to personify the devil

Lines all in my dress,
  not lingerie, but unholy

"What have you done?"
   The street lamps lost their innocence like being 16 all over again


This is a dream with clam-diggers
Plath`s barefoot touched mine

Toes were nothing more than boiling tar
  My eyes as blinds
  Too bad he can see through
                          my stone terrace

here the clams scratch back:
               "Come back to sea
                where the winds meet
                 limbs only
                 coiled in venom,
                 no longer a child- he was
               a lover, not a father
it`s a fucked up rock, I know it

Yet I lie in a boat with an axe to my thigh, instead f being someone`s pocket knife.

Author's Note

All of my poetry is original and copyrighted.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

Oh my, I'd nearly forgotten how profound and raw your poetry can be....love the Plath line, love it all, great finish too.

[MsJewel]

There is power and intensity to your writing. Very creative and well done
:) Julie

[Einstein Noodle]

i'm not sure what to say or think ..only know that the power of your poem rocks me to the core ... read it twice and same thing .. i think it is incredible and must come back to read in another frame of mind perhaps ... such raw power
.E

[kublakhan27]

Nice to see you again Kleio...your writing is riveting and provocative as always. As with all of your stuff, I'd love to hear it spoken. Nicely done.

[A. Amos]

Simply splendid, enjoyed the read and thanks for sharing