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deanna-m-zarrilloPoems
Haunched in the shower-corner Down with the demons A darkness so bright eyelids shut, Clamped, seized up in a scream Water gushes over -- maybe tears? -- A redness configuring around the Edges, behind the eyes, No, just The fake fluorescent lighting that Suffocates this small shower. Bulb-bright blearing blares out: She lives as a conduit. She can't -- Maybe won't? -- Hear Me rattling about inside her. "Poor ******* she calls me pityingly. She's a conduit, her life lived out Beleaguered by glimpses, images, That she's determined to keep down. Thrown into a Heraclitean Fire, screaming, laughing, tumbling, It's behind her eyes. Aptitude, palms cover face Slicked back hair, shower- Drenched rosemary and mint. An attempt. Ocean mist body wash -- She reaches up her fingers From deep sea seaweed imaginings Amphibious dark green soap bubbles Please wash it all away. Rinse & Repeat. Should I intervene? Remember: Outside fresh rain brings the Smell of worms to the soggy Puddle muddied grass But in here, in this warm fort of Fuzz, Marlboros spread scent like Burnt coffee permeate goose Pricked skin Down taste-buds Down throat Down limbs Down fingers Down -- It can't be scrubbed out -- You try but the red returns In patches on your skin Maybe friction or water heat. But it's there, red, blotchy, Raised, fluorescent reminders. Pupils red, hangups, red, Late-night, stay-up, crying, can't Sleep, red, red. Red. The steady stream of water Brings her crashing again I am Losing to her skills of suppression She has so many questions, I catch them. I hang on, I ask And she doesn't listen, a Broken wire perhaps a frayed Circuit board I say look at your Body, the beauty, she can't. Her nakedness mocks her All she sees is blasphemy all She sees is lies. I drown, I'm poured out of A bottle into a wine glass Red, mottled, the image in her head. She wears a straw cap & Flowered bodice Leaning an ironic angle against A patio railing talking to god knows Who in a brown hat Picking grapes off the vine Plopping them under her lips The seductive "O" giggling A thin gossamer veils the Scene, the tablecloth laughs At me, the cheese grimaces, The smoke mimics, and all the People glance knowingly over their Shoulders. I am swallowed in a gulp. She is dizzy. "It's the wine" I say, she doesn't hear. Turns off the shower. The chrome handle winks against The porcelain tacky white walls And wretches at the sandy pink Flooring. Off. On. Off. Red fades away, blue veins like Lizards perk up against her Filmy white thighs and the Backs of her hands. She scoffs. Faintly thinks of betrayal. Barely hears me. She walks naked past the mirror Refusing to look. Feeling sick. -- I've betrayed her maybe? -- I'm not Who hurt her. I don't understand. Curled up, bed, wringing hands. Prepares herself for the day. She is a conduit. She is okay.
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Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
The Blue Period
Haunched in the shower-corner Down with the demons A darkness so bright eyelids shut, Clamped, seized up in a scream Water gushes over -- maybe tears? -- A redness configuring around the Edges, behind the eyes, No, just The fake fluorescent lighting that Suffocates this small shower. Bulb-bright blearing blares out: She lives as a conduit. She can't -- Maybe won't? -- Hear Me rattling about inside her. "Poor ******* she calls me pityingly. She's a conduit, her life lived out Beleaguered by glimpses, images, That she's determined to keep down. Thrown into a Heraclitean Fire, screaming, laughing, tumbling, It's behind her eyes. Aptitude, palms cover face Slicked back hair, shower- Drenched rosemary and mint. An attempt. Ocean mist body wash -- She reaches up her fingers From deep sea seaweed imaginings Amphibious dark green soap bubbles Please wash it all away. Rinse & Repeat. Should I intervene? Remember: Outside fresh rain brings the Smell of worms to the soggy Puddle muddied grass But in here, in this warm fort of Fuzz, Marlboros spread scent like Burnt coffee permeate goose Pricked skin Down taste-buds Down throat Down limbs Down fingers Down -- It can't be scrubbed out -- You try but the red returns In patches on your skin Maybe friction or water heat. But it's there, red, blotchy, Raised, fluorescent reminders. Pupils red, hangups, red, Late-night, stay-up, crying, can't Sleep, red, red. Red. The steady stream of water Brings her crashing again I am Losing to her skills of suppression She has so many questions, I catch them. I hang on, I ask And she doesn't listen, a Broken wire perhaps a frayed Circuit board I say look at your Body, the beauty, she can't. Her nakedness mocks her All she sees is blasphemy all She sees is lies. I drown, I'm poured out of A bottle into a wine glass Red, mottled, the image in her head. She wears a straw cap & Flowered bodice Leaning an ironic angle against A patio railing talking to god knows Who in a brown hat Picking grapes off the vine Plopping them under her lips The seductive "O" giggling A thin gossamer veils the Scene, the tablecloth laughs At me, the cheese grimaces, The smoke mimics, and all the People glance knowingly over their Shoulders. I am swallowed in a gulp. She is dizzy. "It's the wine" I say, she doesn't hear. Turns off the shower. The chrome handle winks against The porcelain tacky white walls And wretches at the sandy pink Flooring. Off. On. Off. Red fades away, blue veins like Lizards perk up against her Filmy white thighs and the Backs of her hands. She scoffs. Faintly thinks of betrayal. Barely hears me. She walks naked past the mirror Refusing to look. Feeling sick. -- I've betrayed her maybe? -- I'm not Who hurt her. I don't understand. Curled up, bed, wringing hands. Prepares herself for the day. She is a conduit. She is okay.
deanna-m-zarrillo
Written by
deanna-m-zarrillo
Stony Brook, NY
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
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