In The Garden Of Her Bones~

I know I can go back

I simply know it

because . . . .

 

my skin remembers the stroke of midnights

on a path filled with well dressed roses

and poppy gourds shaking blue dust on the inside of their cheeks

coloring my iris with every blink of my many eyes

 

my ribs remember the texture of juniper bushes

in a cross brush on crawling knees

through the brambles to the cedar door

with brass latches

 

I had found the key tucked under my voice box

one night, in notes my windpipe wept in striations

against the tapestry of wild men

embroidered through a stone hall

 

I had followed the piano keys floating with pollen seeds

across an indigo sky, to the forgotten door

where my key bent tiny particles inside metal

and unhinged another world, another time

 

I know I can go back

I simply know it

because . . . .

 

my palms remember the marble skin of Boy

the glass transparency of his eyes

how he lay there wound in vines

in a coffin of violets, wearing a masculine version of my face

 

my hips remember the strong hands of my personal Pan

bent into my shoulders, his lute echoing off the bone walls of the garden

as he coaxed my tragedy of being alive another day

from between my floating ribs

 

I had found Pan years before, sewn into the leather spine of an old book

he had come loose with little coaxing of my marmalade fingertips

licking every drop from my aristocratic nails

following me back into my canopy of silks where he became a part of my frame

 

I know I can go back

backward with a song

a key

a boy tucked tightly in the nest of my sacral nerves

because I have never truly left the secrets of my garden

and Pan tells me that

to go forward

one must always go back

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

for Kerry's Sunday Challenge #4 (The secret Garden)
http://www.writerscafe.org/contests/KERRY%27S-Sunday-Challenge-%234/13943/

Reviews

[Robin]

there are places , places of magic , places of healing , places of memories , and through your words , you guide us through this place of amazement , following the music of the curious heart , in wide-eyed wonder across this lush expanse , unveiling the secrets of this special garden ~

[Elaenor Aisling]

Beautiful and stunning. It reminds me of Pan's Labrynth with its exquisite imagery and flow. A brilliant piece.

[Zackery Alan Daley]

You are a magic worker. You are comparable to no other poet of our generation. Simply brilliant, you write poems like a complicated math equation that has factors in it, so it can grab a thousand different hearts very quickly. You are the only poet in my top 10 that isn't dead, so you are a treasure that I will read for a long time. How you write these so quickly is is exilerating and I aspire to be renown for my poetry and respected as you. I am honored to even get a page view from you.

My love and respect,
Zackery A. Daley

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

A beautiful magical read that came to life with the brillant imagery and excellent flow!

[David W Moore III]

Just... Right. True... Correct... Whatever you want to call it (although perfect would work. You weave your history in tapestries made of butterfly wings. Etherial, and wonderful, and utterly mesmerizing.

Beautiful, breathtaking really. Such evocative imagery. I especially love "poppy gourds shaking blue dust on the inside of their cheeks."

[JelliFyshKissUs]

My brain hurts. I took in so much knowledge I simply was not ready for. The entire time I read I kept saying: " No, dovely. You've never left." And then the ending stings me like splinters left to play in the breeze. You are so very right, dovely. There is no forward without backwards. There is no future without visiting your past. There is you... without them.

[LilyT]

Your heart harbors the secret gardens of the world.

[Quinn Blackburn]

"Gardens are a form of autobiography." ~Sydney Eddison

"How fair is a garden amid the trials and passions of existence." ~Benjamin Disraeli

As always, your work is like a flowering oasis hidden in the burning heart of endless desert sands. A wild magically improbable garden of sustaining comforts and wonders after a hard journey. brilliant wordcrafting, dearheart xo

[Grace]

Good Lord but I could read you forever! You have an incredible talent for fantasy with imagery flying from your fingertips that leaves me wishing this would never end. Once again, well done! ~Grace~