The Opium Den
shield of swallows
i almost dream, almost touch
because you are reaching, reaching
you do- reach
no one will see this
"what makes you happy? what do you do for fun?" the new person is now asking.
"let me touch your hair."
i want to choke. he is fragile, too tender and will make a good husband for someone, perhaps he is a husband.
it's too late for husbands.
1,2,3,4,5
seven day candles stay lit day and night
i am feeding the dead small plates of my best cooking
corn meal
two dove eggs
millet
no rice, no hot pepper
i once asked a man not to leave:
come back come back come back come back
" " " "
" " " "
" " " "
perhaps i meant it.
here and there are photographs that have been taken of me. too many really -in various countries
they show that i was a believer in it all.
i once wore jasmine, once wore neroli
before my leggings of willow bark
headdress of matchsticks
shield of swallows
angelica root
azure and white smoke. small, steady stream smoke.
Reader Comments (3)
Felt bit sad.. as the tone set by the poem..
merci.
was needing more words to smooth the edges of this, oh-so confusing time.
and yes, the new person...
often offensive, asking the strangest of questions.
La fumée est le langage des braves ;-)