The Two Selves
Like the crags in the sidewalk concrete that expose a seismic shift
Invisible in her eyes is a feral cat gone astray,
ancient like a knight flailing his weapons in battle
wind seething in the leaves,
in a fight he may lose,
his barbarous sword slashing the wind.
Or a little girl just walking through the sunflowers
holding a worn book she has read over and over.
Singing a song in a rusted D chord that tickles her throat.
A Flesh arpeggio
flushing out of tune.
In this precarious geology of mind and mortal wounds
she possesses two minds,
everything had bled out to.
smudged with yellow Houdini eyes,
the aggregate throng of her senses,
the soundness of her psyche,
Her shadow obscuring her in a damp unfolding.
The knight wants to pierce all injuries
When the light falters and the fog rolls in,
and crush out the mystery.
His Poisonous gifts
of murky gutturals
guide him into battle.
The white knife of a smile,
chewing up a mad scene
like a bad actor in a horror movie.
He is a verb refusing to yield,
Aiming words like soft bullets
thinking memories do him no favors.
He rubs off on you like gossip or soot.
Touch him and he will burn you.
The singing girl is softer,
And has a translucent smile you can swim in,
Composed of hope and wishful thinking,
So much silence between the words.
She bites down
on sadness, on hopelessness
as branches unroll their yellow caterpillars,
and a softness like marrow cells
whose language has eaten all others.
will envelop you.
Touch her and she will heal you.
The two selves are like granular pink quartz
A glowing rock formation,
its igneous veins reaching ever forward.
A body full of juicy adjectives.
And grey screams.
that meet in the middle,
Absolute transparency is so opaque after all.
The flowers of crystallizing earth will daze you
while you catch your breath.
Touch her and she will know you.
RM Jan 2019