evaporate

“The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune”
– Emily Dickinson

darkening shadow
sits high on misting pane

his beckoning words thrumming on taut string
the tapping syllables within the tin can tring

lazy fingers soothe
a bitten round
on silken shoulder
its swell still ripe
from being plundered

among
pitted sands,
petals, dewy-sliced
lay pierced remains
of the thieving drunk

shelter hides
the sopping invitation
muting the call of lowing reverberations

eying bait dry asunder
lightning flailed
still unheeded thunder

he will await
to finally reach up and
evaporate

 
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cherried

Note: I wrote this years ago…I want to change it, but I don’t know what exactly I want to change, so I have left it as it is, and perhaps my muse will relent…

 

she sat clumsily against the grimy brick wall
staring straight ahead to avoid my sharp glance
her hair lay greasy and plastered to her face
dark and congealed like tarrish glue
lazily her hand lay open to catch the piercing needles from above
sighing i sat aside her
defiant to remain as wordless as she
to stay still as icyness wetted my clothes
even as the torrent of freezy drops
snaked down my goose-pimpled neck
she lay her head calmly upon numb shoulder
and slid heavily into sitter’s lap
upon her flustered face
stared two crimson-stained eyes
cheeks a blush
lips parted in scarlet
hued tears had lay upon eyelashes
and run rivulets upon her rosy-pale face
cherried were her hands
all sticky with sweet iron scent
she lay there refusing to utter a word more
almost but never….no never her…almost less a little of life
she lay in my drizzle laden arms
drenched in rain and red…