tues.
exhausted piano teeth mozart pere
gnashing slashing sound barrier
stretching zoology beyond the bird
cannibals in the a-z azimuth

weds.
mirage of red awnings all-night resort
cannibals in the azimuth stairwell décor

thurs.
cold as leprosy embraced
yet somehow curled

fri.
frail departure voice to ****
height hair duck drake
cold as geology young rocks flame
(hidden within the blink of eye)

mature man
holding his nose
to life
desires young woman
who
is indifferent to
oranges
and longs for those
days
before umbrellas

letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging

time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell

wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones, and your name is Soul

The seasons are finally changing,
and while I didn't expect your heart
to escape,
you fled,
just like you said you would.

Just like I knew you should.

I act like you had a choice;
there was never a word self-spoken
where my loathing manifested itself
as an audible voice.

Rejoice in free will
and affinity
and freedom of choice.

You forced winter to thrive,
but I hate you for thoughts
and an urge
and emotions
where self-hates and reality merge.

You forced winter to thrive,
but where green should arrive,
I am unheard.

You are blooming,
and I am unheard.

A white mist drifts across the shrouds,
A wild moon in this wintry sky
Gleams like an angry lion’s eye
Out of a mane of tawny clouds.

The muffled steersman at the wheel
Is but a shadow in the gloom;—
And in the throbbing engine-room
Leap the long rods of polished steel.

The shattered storm has left its trace
Upon this huge and heaving dome,
For the thin threads of yellow foam
Float on the waves like ravelled lace.

In the seventies
we brought back silks and saris
hot with colours
that shocked the nights
Punjabi embroidery
on cheesecloth kaftans
mirror glittered skirts
that were spun with light
Kashmiri shawls
and Afghani dancing dresses
arms full of bracelets
silver and brass
enameled and etched
and singing with ***
rings of Ivory, sapphire and jet
necklaces of jade and threaded apple seeds
rain forest timber bowls
white marble boxes from Agra
with precious inlay stones
our little Taj Mahals
we wandered the globe
like a magical village
of lovers and
and came back
with backpacks of dreaming
and hope.


© M.L.Emmett