An onyx rock turning
the silver-brown waters
and the mud hand
grasping my leg, softly
a child-land.
My blood red top
shivers, I am all wrong
for this and my shoes
slide and stick,
perhaps I am appropriate.
A peach sky opening
climbs and explodes into
pink bridesmaids carrying
little light bearers,
stars of evening.
No smooth, reflective, surface
tells me I am pretty.
perhaps, its better not
to ask, trembling,
savage wind styles me.
There should be someone
officiating, they tell me
I am crazy.
A blue gift,
I wear on me.
No one has come
to witness us.
And we became
through barriers unknown.
A cold air blast,
a seaweed ring.
I am on my knees,
passersby are gawking.
We are a scene.
Trees shower us with
leaf confetti, falling.
A slip of light
amidst gaping tragedy.
We are one.
The hills and houses,
rolling lawns are of
a bygone sanity.
The cat tail bouquet
is carried to sea.
The harsh wind tears
into me.
The banks are damp
and water dirty.
Driftwood ships sink.
Night fairies tug me
apart, my flowers
Scatter over dark garment.
my numb fingers undo
as best they can.
I came to you,
even if I cannot think
you would see me
cherished, married
to you.
During the dark parade,
it is only your insubstantial
hand that holds and
understands my love,
brings me down.
Enchanting rivers seduce me
under the moonlit waves
and floating wood bays.
This is the only way
to save us.
I will not fall
victim to the drowning pond.
Instead, I fold you up
inside the heart, in my palm,
and nestle you calm center.
A window light shines
for us.
This gold promise will
not divide the parts
and chambers of my heart.
An onyx rock turning
the silver brown waters
and the mud hand
grasping my leg, softly
a child-land.
For this month’s poem postings, Kaleidoscope will highlight the work of a single contributor. Please enjoy a collection of 10 poems from the artist Cassandra Kulay.
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