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Posted by on May 17, 2015 in Emotions | 0 comments

Poem: The Infanta’s Playmate

The place where rules end, intention-

al self-mutilation: cut the lines, let the warmth

flow out, feel

the slow, pleasurable kiss of the razor; pain is reality

 

translucent veil of a feeling, torn

and sullied with dried blood: letting

the wave wash it clean

 

this isle is full of silent voices,

discordant sounds –

sonnet on a slime-smeared page of antique vellum

eloquence stained, metre crumpled

to this harsh usage; unmelodic music

to accompany a jerky little dance

muscles jarred

by the sudden movements

 

smile distorted in a funfair’s mirror

deformed and hideous: the only way to

face this caricature of love

painted eyes stare blankly

unmoving; lips pray for reprieve

while the echo of a breath remains

 

honesty stretched scream-

ing in a torturer’s tower, confessed

long ago, but death

by mercy is a long time

coming

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