Prelude
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for Mallarme, Eliot and Debussy
1.
Winter.
all afternoon she has written letters.
and as the lane turns lonelier,
she stands in the snow,
weak, by the red postbox,
not knowing whom to send
the three letters
she has written all afternoon.
2.
then fire devours the neighbourhood
snowflakes electric
and the red box sucks her inside…
she falls
she pierces the earth
like a cold needle…
through violins and screams
she falls…
3.
the dead receive her
in that dark city
she stands among ghosts now
the priest
the poet
the queen
all dead. all ugly.
they were waiting for her letters.
In that dark city.
4.
there is a river
at one end of the city…
the boatman calls out,
his ghost resembles an old lover
he rows her
to that part of the river…
where night and day merge wings
the sky is fire and purple,
the orgasm.
5.
she remembers her neighbourhood,
the snow
and the red postbox that devoured her
she remembers the eyes of the dead
that the letters made
so happy…
and a god stabs her with light.
[http://inam-poetry.blogspot.com]
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Comments
Now, this one is your best (ofcourse my opinion!, partly cause i actually undertood the poem (i like simple poems :)) and partly cause its such an innovative concept!
Kudos to you!
When i started reading the poem,i thought…aha….this one seems to be a non dark poem….but was soon proven wrong !
Your dark imagination is awesome !:-)
great prelude to the opera of images…
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