Kiss me here, her fingers said
tracing the chalky porcelain
of her woman’s jaw,
light as a water bug
skimming the surface,
over that seam between
flesh and mask,
where the little girl ended
and the doll began, draped in
lace and fragile gossamer
but so very little substance.

By Sara L Russell
00:58, 7/11/11

                         1

I was a priestess once, inviolate;
With hair like Aphrodite's; soft spun gold;
Blissfully unaware of future fate, 
With all the happiness a heart might hold.

Great artists came from many miles around
To make my portrait while I stood in prayer;
I wore brocaded gowns that skimmed the ground
And garlands of white lilies in my hair.

Oh blameless life, sweet vision of the past!
Oh hapless bovine state of womanhood!
Oh unjust, cruel curse holding me fast;
How I would flee away, if I but could!

For I did nothing wrong, no harm was meant,
To be stricken with such a punishment...

                              2

One summer's day, thinking of keeping cool,
I was disrobing on a quiet bay
Behind some rocks, beside a limpid pool,
As amber fire marked the fading day.

There came a sudden parting of the sea,
The waves came open, like a corridor,
Poseidon and his henchmen came to me,
With lustful gaze, across the ocean floor.

Then all at once, his henchmen held me tight,
I felt Poseidon's rank breath in my face,
His breath like bladderwrack, deathly as night,
Embrace of scaly arms, touch of disgrace.

I struggled fiercely but he ravished me,
Turned my virtue into a travesty.


                             3

When at last Poseidon had his fill
He left me all alone to face my shame
Ah, how I burned with shame! I feel it still
And wondered if somehow I was to blame.

I curled up, in self-comfort, on my side,
Naked and weeping, as he swam away
And all at once, the heavens opened wide
Goddess Athena had something to say.

"And didst thou tempt my dearest love from me?"
She shouted, as I lay sprawled at her feet.
"I'll turn thy beauty to monstrosity!"
She added, ere I could flee or retreat.

No sooner spoken, than the change began;
Though foolishly, I rose back up and ran.


                                     4

I fled for what seemed all eternity
Until I found a rock pool near a cave
To study my reflection, fearfully
To see what evil gifts Athena gave.

I sank to kneel in abject, dark despair,
Thinking, surely the pool's reflection lies!
Green serpents now replaced my golden hair,
Red pupils graced my staring, lidless eyes

My lips, once subject of admirer's praise
Were drawn up in a deathly, mirthless grin;
My tongue flicked out, before my helpless gaze,
To snare a fly that landed on my chin.

This face is mine, and I must live alone;
For every man who sees it turns to stone.

Here is the sun.
And I am lost again in June,
Remembering how those fingers moved
To bend a note that might still resonate
On nights when sleep is hiding.
Shadow!
Dark and shining,
Lurking in the corners of this box.
Let go,
He'll slip away
If I take the long way home...
Oh, I'll just take the long way home.

While this new fire burns,
casts its light on your face,
I will learn every crease,
every worry tucked within.
And what of your hands,
what of these knuckles,
large and calloused pearls
that never knew the sea;
why this salt on my tongue-tip
the quiver of tidal currents
carried through you and so
into me. I would have it all
to be sweet, to be dear,
while this new fire burns.

Still he trudges to the office
The blinking phone and the flashing screen orients him
The wounded still seek consolation
The ****** hunters need justification
The hunted plot escape
And in the towers, other gray men seek absolution
From what the city has become

As always he carries his soul under his tongue
Worn to a sliver, nearly forgotten
Still he trudges, more slowly now
Time begins to take away the confident stride

At the end of day
Alone in the darkness, in echoing quiet
He pulls the damp sliver from his mouth
And remembers the dream

Her eyes, a tender hand
A living crystal
The liquid fire of life itself
Flashing in the morning air

Surely there is still a path there?
Somewhere in the empty eyed windows
of the endless gaping towers
Something must remain

And as if directed by some secret plan
The tiny crystal glows
Nudges him towards her quiet day
And then the Gray man knows
He knows
So he trudges slowly, slow

Tonight I married a graffiti artist.
This is the third time I’ve been proposed to
at some ***** house party.
This time there was an ordained all-faith minister
on the porch smoking a cigarette. That was enough.
I said yes.
We’re all strictly first-name-basis here, nicknames are even better.
So to him I’m just Mimi. Focused intently on my hand,
he draws my wedding ring with a permanent marker
and kisses each finger as he finishes.
There is a tiny replica of his tattoo on the underside of my finger
in addition to my gigantic drawn-on diamond.
It is my favorite part.
We talk politics and eventually art.
Turns out he’s sort of an amazing artist.
He said he’d put my name up on a wall but I don’t believe him.
Intricate, passionate, and thoughtful.
His smile is adventure.
That’s why I married him.
He asked to read my poetry and in my fuzzy judgment I let him.
Maybe he even liked a few phrases.
And he was polite as a hopped up boy can be.
Getting me home before three,
lending me his jacket without me asking.
I know he’ll forget to call, or that he even has my number.
and that we won’t watch Pulp Fiction
tomorrow.
That I was really just a glorified
snort of some white powder,
I am like all the glitter that fades in the morning
like smiles do, or permanent marker
after a few washes.

I have a strange dream
seen in oddest of nights -
the one where I'm bouncing
on an old grist stone
that is spinning awfully fast.
with every push of hands to get free,
gravity pulls me back down
and I'm erasing.
first fingers and toes -
we could live without those -
but then it's elbows and knees

I eventually give up all hope of escape
and actually enjoy the ride for a bit
but opening mouth to say "ahhhh,"
I'm flung loose by centrifugal force,
and in epiphany, realize that
teeth had been griping the axle.
I could have been freed so much sooner
if only I'd let go first.
of course, by then not much was left
a mere twenty five pounds of finely marbled roast,
head still attached, but quite useless

frankincense smoldered in censers
when priests dressed in lacy
white wedding gowns
patted me down with fresh linen and silk.
the head they hacked off and discarded,
the gray not much used
but useless as transplant
and salesman refused it on trade-in.
they anointed dead flesh
in scents of rare oils
and spices imported from India,
solemnly transporting the meat to a pit
built just in front of the altar.

Young boys wearing dresses
took turns at the spit
making mean faces,
but only when no one was looking,
their tobacco juice joining
my fat drips spattered on coals.
finally I was done cooking,
three hours of basting,
and arranged with bruised fruit
on a huge silver platter with handles
that my wife rented just for the occasion.
steam shimmered over din
of all my friends, who were seated,
and family, too, dressed for a luau
in bright floral prints and grass skirts.
After a short blessing, they dug in.

When feeding was done,
dripping chins wiped from curtains
hung loose from the ceiling,
all seated agreed
the meal had been tasty,
though meat a bit gristly and greasy,
especially slices cut close to the edges.
a fat policeman called them to order
and somehow I read from a speech
by chance I had prepared in advance,
like a letter or even a poem,
in which I contritely confessed
I'd always wished to have been more,
but meal finished, and dishes clearing
at least now I'd always be with them.