Muse

Closeness

We were distant any way, even before all this.

Even when we were sitting across from one another at a small, intimate table; how much were we really willing to give out?  How much were we ready to take in?

We were always wearing masks and carrying shields.

The only things a real connection needs are honesty and willingness; proximity is optional.

Picture: Claude Cahun, 1928, Self portrait. Pantin, France.

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Verse

Colombo looks like a bride tonight

Colombo looks like a bride tonight;

lovely, wet,

born in the morning,

heart racing, jewels burning;

here for tomorrow,

sweet, gratifying—like fresh milk rolling down your throat.

 

Colombo looks like a bride tonight,

whose girlhood dreams were subject to the earth’s gravitational pull

—a practical brown, boxy and tied down.

A girl whose thoughts were borrowed from the eight-thirty show.

but perfectly nice and with a secret alleyway between her breasts.

 

She’ll cry on her wedding night.

 

Colombo looks like a bride tonight

—a woman who knows better than to question happiness.

She knows that the moment joy touches your fingers

is when you hear that distant thunder.

Her best secrets—like dirty, old men—

left homeless, roaming loose and unloved

like cheap asbestos roofs quietly disintegrating

poison-proofing hearts that sleep underneath them.

 

Colombo looks like a bride tonight.

A woman cut open and left awake at 2am

as the lonely train runs down Marine drive,

for nothing—driving no one.

 

Colombo looks like a bride tonight-

lovely, pious, shiny and alone,

because it’s a long weekend and

everyone left for home

—never more empty and never more beautiful.
 

Photograph: Max Murrell, 2017, ‘Trees in the dark’, http://www.twitter.com/maxmurrell_42, Colombo, Sri Lanka

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Verse

Scar tissue

Hurt can hide in cells to well from time to time;

it can mould your cold corners

to fester, to fear, to turn criminal over the years.

 

Every shred of broken heart, from the city, mother and his past,

can outlive the skin.

Even when they threaten to whelm your walls

and burst out cold, you can’t hold your guard;

because the scar tissue is what creates the mark of your make

in honest, ugly, wiser paths laid out elaborate

on the vastitude of our plains.     

      

Image by Aneta Ivanova

Image by Aneta Ivanova

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