October 15, 2009

Archive number EIGHT

I like this poem of mine...The picture is 'Antigona' by Alexei Golovin.


The water was dry.
She’d extinguished the flowers.

Orchids littered her
Linoleum  floors.

Soaked into their petals was
The funeral,

More time that could be clogged
In the Hoover.

They look like broken hearts
Strewn all around her;

She didn’t understand

The dust can no longer be drowned,
It just settles, waiting.

She can’t know

She hadn’t lost anything
But another face

Morphing into the past,
Overreaching fragrant memories.

She can hear the petals crunching
Under her polished black heels,

But she knows that she can’t
Smell them anymore.

She grazes the lock on the door
With her abdomen.

The coldness of the steel
startles her solemnity

Is it love?
Is this love?

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