The Amaranthine Poet

A Shivering Forest

May 16, 2009 on 1:21 am | In Everything | 33 Comments

There is a ripple in the spine
of that perverse sky
whose indigo bends and
spills its cold fragrance out
on the oiled hands
of blushing girls
and the blushing dusk is shivering, too.

The obscured stars shake
and pull apart ephemeral dreams.
Illuminating them
with the blue blaze
they’ve borrowed from the massive sun,
the roaring soul of the sky,
who just barely skims the bruise
of the horizon before bouncing back into
his place behind
the crimson folds and the green peach skin
which is sliding off the sky
and sinking beneath
the fissured flesh and
charred knots in the back
of the oceanic hills.

And that is when the cypress trees cracked
and detached from their roots
and roamed the earth like
inverted tears,
in search of the forest
who they found swaying
in the wayward wind.
They gathered their roots
and the dirt and the crystallized dew
and the doughy sap and
demanded to
plant their seeds
amongst her redwood and sweetgum.

And the ruthless sky grinned and
hovered over the forest.
Lowering himself,
he hinged each cypress
below his storm-hued stomach.

And the forest’s eyes became
dancing moths
whose golden wings trembled
in the salted rain.
She tried to flee as he lurked
through the doorway
but the doors are too heavy to shut.

She pushed with the wind in her heels
at the cell bars of his ribcage
and skeletal wings of his hips
but the sky contains us all
and we cannot escape
the thrusting rage and
the febrile solace
The doors are too heavy to shut.

<3Jenna Awad<3

©Jenna Awad. All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication
without express permission by the author by any means, mechanical,
electronic or otherwise is a violation of all application laws.