April 2, 2016

in the spaces between thee ( #NaPoWriMo2016 )


Nancy Ford Cones "The Dryads" c. 1934 Cyanotype Photo 



I was sure I could make 
even mannequins come alive 
with their scents 

sewn into a next time 
you read 
yourself 
a bedtime story 

see if you can find 
this poet and sinner 
wearing himself thin 
where you sense 
when 
I close my eyes 
to be far away 
nearby prayer 
forefinger 
middle too 

witches are always 
going to be 
my hot mothers 
even Baba Yaga...

all the kids today 
are spoiled lest us forget 
modernity has given us 
pictorial hunger in place of words 
games of blurry lines 
and names we call people 
on the outside of things...

I say, let's renew 
the hansel-gretel games instead 
I'll play the crow 
eating the crumbs 
you sisters leave behind
while you all just play 
me or the other faces 
I wear to keep my heart 
from dying too young 
without a place 
like this forest 
you sisters wear 
for me to grow old with 
on the corner(s) 
covered trunk(s) 
and vine(s) 

seems poem 
has always 
liked to be 
every willing 
and gifted 
recipient...

EJR ©

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  2. I like and appreciate that you joyfully romp inside the words...

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