Nikita’s Garden~

Once upon a time a messiah took a strand of pearls and placed them in the bole of a cherry tree, whispering

“Don't ever contradict desires with advances and great rewards to come with this,  the grandest fall.” "Besides, God is fatigued." he said, "He gave it all up for a girl."

I laughed as I ate the diamond lies out of his vivid imagination

and drank his pearl passions down with the sun

 "You will lose your life." I whispered as he stroked my hair

"So how could you ever claim you've lived your life better than any dog."

and it was his turn then to laugh and to . . . .

 

pop me like a pebble from between his grinding stone mind into . . . .

 

I approached the dread

the utter confusion the torn lady evoked with a soft growl

my eyes like onyx

my pupils dilated in the fragment of Parisian nights

 

remembering . . . .

 

Two loving hearts over pasta in Venice;

where for the first time I saw love like a pulse

the wine rush of their capillaries expanding

as I stumble out of dainty feet into a cape of blood red and a basket of wire

 

tripping out on . . . .

 

The mother on the street  as she hushed the bleating lamb

with her last breath;

I baked it sweets with my warm hands

gave it cream to lap from the bowl of my stone palm

 

spilling out onto a tablecloth with . . . .

 

The emptied glass by the old man's hand

the cat gone from his lap into the night outside the chalet;

I bent like a reed out of my kimono to lick the brandy from his fingertips

 

swallowing . . . .

 

The storm  as it shook the surface of a young girl's dreams

soaked the rose from her cheeks

took her down on a spiral into a world of prey

 

pushing me out of ribs into meat . . . .

 

Variations on a meal;

the only constant is the blood on the edges of the silk handkerchief

with which I dab at the corners of my mouth

 

pressing drops of pressure, defending . . . . .

 

I can't do much about the noises, baby

except to curl around them in my snake scales

in the pew of a cathedral

 

shattering my brand of stalk before an image of . . . .

 

The women beseeching finely dressed gentlemen

with hungry eyes

the men's only sacrifice to  yearning

cursory glances

filled with contempt

 

filled with . . . .

 

Hysteria

is a thing I'd rather not engender

but when she asked what I wanted with her faith

I had no resistance, and showed her

 

fell through her divinity amidst . . . .

 

Curious figures through the snows

fountains frozen in delicate grace iced over with psalms;

only beauty humbles my silent heart

 

feeding . . . .

 

Silhouettes in the tombs

my irises

the color of blood

as I take in the undead world of my father

 

stalking . . . .

 

The snowdrift whisperings through the unshuttered village

empty

save for the curious wolves with the silver bullet eyes

 

pushing my dreams under. . . .

 

I bathe in rivers frozen over with hummingbird feathers iridescing

I sleep in icicle beds full of the chill and frost fire

of Dhawos

 

entertaining the horror of . . . . .

 

He'd lain here in remembrance for an age

the forest grown up around him;

I could wake him with a kiss, but I fear it

 

for I learned young . . . .

 

The true killer  pleated in meats of sickness I'd rather do without

while the dying littering the roads in innocent heaps

represent sweet flutters of a feast

 

in rimed lashes watching . . .

 

Grasshoppers litter the snows this year

birds shivering in branches outside my window

going nowhere

 

as I bend through the waist of an hourglass whispering . . . .

 

Drink in me

fulfill this invitation carved in indigo embedded in silk tablets

of legacy and death

 

famished soul devouring . . . .

 

The blood curtains as they fell in grace

to conceal the nightingale with the long, white neck

I moved through the shadows

to startle her with blue roses

sweeping her out of her ruby slippers

 for dinners, festivities

she danced me through the evenings

wondering in whispers why I touch nothing to my lips

save the back of her dove hands

kisses  for her shoulders;

I'm a sexless thing

but hunger imbues me with a sensuality that drives them to me like moths to flame

she manifests

in kid gloves, soft tan, she slips them over my hands

starved for love her mouth tastes my own

her pearl teeth bite gently at my lips

but these are not the gifts I want

and I shiver only because her beauty fills me with ache

as I slither in vain against my own chromosomal waltz

while she

willingly winds herself into my coils of moonlight and apricot brandy

 

I sink into body . . . .

 

I shift for the eve, the man, the lamb

I do this with little passion

and without pity

prone to a tendency

to pretend at being a regular girl

embroidering fine

delicate fantasies through the air

out on the terrace

in my rocking chair of bone

as father laughs and calls me mischievous

 

his memory like. . . .

 

Leaves drying

between the yellowed pages of mythological texts on shelves of oak

in the grand library that was his

whispering

begging to feel the curve of my hands

in weeping bindings;

I tell them to hush

because attack from beneath the catacombs always waits on a fine edge for sound

 

tensed in me . . . .

 

I dream and dance to victrola notes

like gems of moonbeam milk against the walls

waltzing inside candlelit tragedies through a sunken garden

on the arms of rouge DNA and in swirls of chemistry unbound

falling like leaves

beneath a soft rain shower

white feet silent whispers in the mud of Nikita's Garden

my eyes inlaid with rubies

my mouth filled with stars. . . . .

 

for a messiah with a god complex . . . .

 

 

 

 

copyright:2009vssmd/pa.inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

Reviews

[Brad]

ever since the first prose i've read from you i've always always wanted to see the pictures in your head when you wrote each peice...you paint them so well with your words, but to see it through your eyes...i think that would be nirvana


**sorry, but the bastids only let me give you 100

[Dream Weaver]

Nice Selene, what a incredible piece you've
penned...A vivid story among stories of epic
proportions...Exquisitely Done...