The cherry blossoms, pink and luscious, in full bloom.
Below the koi fish swim round, round in circles.
The sun reflects off silk kimonos with a shine radiant, dazzling,
With red lips against painted white skin, blindingly beautiful.
A walk like unraveling ribbon,
And hair like ink, bound tightly a few strands bound for escape.
Untouched skin tainted by stares, clipped wings useless for an escape,
Freedom comes in the hope of riding a cherry blossom, swelling in bloom.
The leaves swirl to the ground, spiraling in nature’s ribbon.
The glares of tigers ********** her, kimono falling to her feet in circles,
Eyes of blue, green, never turning away, trapping those beautiful,
The nature of a hidden world, shaming and stunning, confining yet so dazzling.
The snap of the gold-trimmed fan weaving in and out, dazzling
The crowd with effortless twists and turns; clenched tightly, no room for escape.
A dance of untamed water in a disturbingly beautiful
Unity of desire and fright. A young bud not on the verge of bloom
Thrown into a crowd of tigers to be spun in uncontrollable circles
And entrapped by the unflinching gazes in silk ribbon.
The game is simple: mesmerize a pack with grace of ribbon,
Attend engagements that ask for a dance, tea pouring, but never dazzling
That pure smile too brightly. Fool the ***** tigers to follow in circles,
But never trust a tiger that promises a chance of escape.
Never fall for love’s first bloom,
Never become the next to lose the light. Stay pure and stay beautiful.
A kimono is only as pure and as beautiful
As the woman underneath. By cutting the ribbon
Of virginity by a friendly lamb, instead of tiger’s bidding for the bloom,
Only leads to the fall of a shooting star, gracing the sky with its dazzling
Beauty, and the hope and wish of an everlasting escape
Is crushed by the weight of a soapy rag, washing away the hope in circles.
Though the pain of the cage binds the mind in endless circles,
Though tigers ignored the aching backs and blistered feet, staring at only the beautiful,
It is better, safer to stay in the hidden world, banishing all thoughts of an escape.
Keep the tigers in a tight ribbon,
Stay young, fresh, never letting the mind wander away from dazzling,
And never fall like a cherry blossom after its first bloom.
A walk like unraveling ribbon,
The sun reflects off the silk kimono with a shine that never ceases from dazzling,
And forever watching the cherry blossoms, pink and luscious, fall in full bloom.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
The kiss that would turn my lips to a work of art
Stained my mouth once more.
That sting of comfort against my tongue
Pulled me, kneaded me, hooked me by the nose.
What is it about you that keeps me in hunger pains?
Your golden halo?
Your musky wood aroma?
Your gooey center?
Your Italian sausage?
I can't help myself around you.
I always have more than my share.
But who can blame me?
Damn...pizza...
Epilogue:
Can it be true?
I'm having this cholesterol-induced heart attack
All because of you.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
The phone disconnects.
Maybe a rat chewed through the wire
Or the ring of your voice triggered the phone's Numbers to Reject.
The phone disconnects.
I could have slammed it down,
I could have never answered, though luckily for me,
the phone disconnects.
Maybe a rat chewed through the wire.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
That night
the silence was empty
for the cats
would mew
no more.
The la la la-ing that comforted me,
helped slide the shadow over my eyes,
without it the cord loosened,
my body fumbling for a weight, a familiar tightness
to gather around myself
and tuck me
under the cats' warm bellies.
Cherry Lane is no longer sweet, but it is red.
the paper box is where the cats kept the,.
hidden beneath the jasmine bush,
sweetness lightly infused with bitter metal,
those sparrows
with the ** over their eyes.
My father found the paper box.
I can't hear the cats' song
any more.
There was something in the buttermilk
from 1957.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
white trousers stained with sunsets
porcelain coffee spoons resting on novels
toast and tea
tea and peach
Hear the music this October night
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC