When Death Decides to Whisper Plant a Kiss Upon Its Lips~

~soothing mortality~

He sat there

by the window

of stains

dreams still clenched

in his fist

he bent

a moment in a pearl brocade

unquenched

she unfurled her silks

like water

in cool drips

at his feet

against the tide

of mortality

ripe

which teased

against his ancient mind

 

She enjoyed him by the hour

capturing his gaze

he tasted her sublime

youth

throughout the  days

as dying went about

the figurines of glass

his cane against the door

in a stand of wood and brass

and she bent into his fixture

her hands into his bones

refusing to give meaning

to age

or to atone

for every sinuous curve

she brushed against his arms

of how she used her lips

to sooth him

like a balm

 

"You're greater than their fears."

she said

"Greater than their greed."

as she fed him honey

from a hive

and offered him reprieve

in the scripture

of her arms

embrace

and the psalms of what she was

she'd lift him

every night and day

to a dying time's applause

beneath the down of memory

and the crossroads of a scroll 

as he moved his youth out of his mind

to glaze her eyes of kohl

with his kiss

against her neck

unlocked and smooth

at her behest

sublime in every swallow

of her body made to sooth

 

And so the night enfolded

the old house settled

with a sigh

as she placed him on a bed

of oak

his hard hands had designed

and she kissed each fingertip

with a mouth of berry crème

and pulled him through the swelling

of her struggling

to be free

because

here

she wanted to be chained

to his days and to his nights

ached to enter him like water

to their horror and delight

as the hours fractured off the mirror

and lines deepened through his soul

she pressed her body into his

in that hour without control

curing him of life

feeding him in vain

as eternity crushed down

on another killing day

 

So smooth

she pulled him over

into a photograph from dust

she blew across its surface

and licked away the rust

until he stood against her gown

his fedora tilted to the right

she smiled against his chin

as death

transposed them through the light

where he took her in his arms

and she folded bright

into the tune

round

and round

to music

dance

he dipped her

and she leaned deep back

against the evermore of Time

where love may pause

but doesn't die

as long as there is just one left

to remember

to remember them~

 

And in a photo black and white

a man knelt down

a woman smiled

and the little girl who watched them there

placed her Ipod on a chair

and leaned in close

forward

to see

where she came from

where she'd be

to smooth the wheels turned in a clock. . . .

and a little girl sang

tick

and tock

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa. inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

excerpt from .. . .

Author's Note

~*~

Reviews

[Amy Bumpas]

The seduction of a woman....here she wanted to be chained
to his days and to his nights
ached to enter him like water
Love that line.

Such control, dominance, yet a willingness to surrender,
be the fantasy. You took us to the past, present, and brought a
house alive. And...here we go back in time...

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

And you have affirmed what i have always felt, love never dies... what a beautiful poem you make dying an art (i know SP) and a beautiful one .. This is my favorite by you.
Passionate writing.

Chloe

[writing mojo]

Such rhythm and scheme her in this piece indeed, winding hands and watching a face change from light to dark, in the ever present shadow of time clocked...amazing stuff

[WhiteWillow]

Its no wonder you are published. A beautiful piece by a talented writer.

[.]

read again..because I can. what a beautiful elegant you give to this old man as love enters the picture and death takes on another journey - this was your graceful and exquisite story telling..wrapped in a surreal bow - as always amazed.

[Mockingbird]

wonderful narrative poem. very sensual and climactic in its flow. tragic as well. i really like the imagery and closure in the end.

[Siddhartha]

Oh, so much I was missing here Selene. Came back, read this poem of yours and life seems allright again...:)

[Muse]

This made me think of Romeo and Juliet, but KITTY KUTABARE style. :D

To crave and need someone so badly...sometimes death seams to be the only release. Is this true love...or a sick obsession. Not sure, but this subject matter is a favorite of mine to write about. It's almost taboo. It's normal to love..but is it unhealthy love and to want someone so badly and to feel the need to consume and control. Human love is yet to be understood I'm afraid.

[w2de35657u687y4324rf]

This poem really took me by the tips of the wings in the beginning as it is not your usual style. I kept waiting for the woman in the story to turn into a ravaging poetess and send the world up in a crystal inferno, but alas, you snipped my ankles deeper than ever with the ending about parenthood. I was completely and utterly enthralled with that wonderful twist. You capture a beautiful, out-of-culture moment (actually putting an IPod down, for soothe!) which makes the moment austere. There's a lot of sense of taste here, probably because you associate it with love so well, but it gives an element lightly obscure to the photograph, perhaps unfurling the depth of the child's thoughts upon perceiving it. However, I'm rambling now. It's too bad you stripped your other works down. I'd been clicking on the one about lost magik and iPhones for two days now. I don't often review as you get all the praise in the world already, but you are my favorite contemporary poet. I await your return to posting, but in the meantime I'll buy a book. Desired affect, eh? Good work.

[FireWoman]

A ring of a cultural bell, each tribe honors death uniquely, discreetly; and in this case hauntingly encased inside love.

[shultzfeather]

quite the story. Sends me to wonder about little old you. Such delicate, meticulous shifts.