The Bones Of Things
It is a myth that ghosts are insensitive.
Behind every closed door
You slashed your wrists
To birth a witch.
Love is
Blood sacrifice,
A lineage of lies,
Constructions of smoke
Destruction of mirrors,
Seven times
Seven years of bad luck -
Regretted invocations
And dizzy spells
Abracadabra!
I am become,
Anathema.
Behind every closed door
I discover a shroud of shadows
Hand stitched by an absent mother.
It is a myth that ghosts have better things to do.
I visit barren rooms,
And find sewing kits
For the sewing on of shadows,
Empty bottles drained
Of forgetting, well read copies of,
The Art of War.
I feel –
I feel the bones of things
I feel –
The skeletal rattle of disapproval,
The intensity of unblinking judgment,
The sour breath of endings.
It is a myth that ghosts forgive.
The doors are tests, of loyalty
Far greater than a curious daughter
And her mouthful of keys
Are these, bones of things.
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Comments
Thank you very much for popping in and for reading! I think your comment got cut off :)
lol ok (tho I disagree about your literary limitations!)
Thank you very much! I am really pleased you find my writing worth reading thee times! I sincerely hope it grabs others in the same way.
I'm still poking at this one. Its not quite there yet. I don't usually post and edit -- but this is a good way for me to work at the minute as I can access VOX from anywhere. I hope my editing as I go won't put people off. You'll just have to check back for the completed deal -- will likely try to do a voice track to indicate its finished :)
Again, thank you really much for your continued support and encouragement, means tons!
Hey Fiona.
The poem seems to start with I feel - I feel the bones of things...I love the stanza that starts "I visit barren rooms..." seems like barren wombs and then the Peter Pan image of sewing on the shadow completes this for me.
I think there is a lot that could be edited out, to make this piece crisper like bones. I like your work Fiona, your subjects and your style of writing.
Lucy
This one is still in progress - we'll see how I go with it. That's my favorite stanza too ;)
"I visit barren rooms, and find sewing kits
For the sewing on of shadows"
Such mystery. I know the thought is an ethereal one, but I also see a gray, cloudy, box of a room - with a sewing kit, its colors peeking out - timidly placed in the corner. There is life in every empty place.
I like your vision of the room too ... chilly!
You have this way of making memories flow in and out of my body.
You have this way of making tears stream down my face.
You have this way of being my friend.
Fiona, this is amazing.
I have to tell you that with what has been thrown at me in life lately, I don't know what I would do without you.
Thank you.
~J