dyingflame
04-09-2007, 12:14 PM
Statue of A Woman
She was a statue of flesh and blood,
impermeable to the droplets that dripped
on wasted waterfalls of slime and mud
that clung to flesh and bit the lips that missed-
Acid rain was scrutinized. It fell away
But she never withered. She was steel,
stone, bone- smiling at the knight who forgot to kneel.
Drip, dew- remind us that dying hanged is to love,
and to hold the bending branch and smile at tears
in gnarled, young hands whose fingers curl
is to futilely clasp the ever-growing strains, laughing.
She loved the leaf’s first binding brown-
bursting buds to raise new blooms,
casting blood-clotted nets to span
an entire autumn-generated affair.
She now observes the bloom’s blood crimson
a thorn’s gentle kiss on sallow cheeks of white,
Where nights cut at cloths that know no spite-
low on setting suns the smiling sculptures
are loaded down by their sulphur treasures.
She was a statue of flesh and blood,
impermeable to the droplets that dripped
on wasted waterfalls of slime and mud
that clung to flesh and bit the lips that missed-
Acid rain was scrutinized. It fell away
But she never withered. She was steel,
stone, bone- smiling at the knight who forgot to kneel.
Drip, dew- remind us that dying hanged is to love,
and to hold the bending branch and smile at tears
in gnarled, young hands whose fingers curl
is to futilely clasp the ever-growing strains, laughing.
She loved the leaf’s first binding brown-
bursting buds to raise new blooms,
casting blood-clotted nets to span
an entire autumn-generated affair.
She now observes the bloom’s blood crimson
a thorn’s gentle kiss on sallow cheeks of white,
Where nights cut at cloths that know no spite-
low on setting suns the smiling sculptures
are loaded down by their sulphur treasures.