Fairy girl like weathervane spins by the breaths of a sea
Arms stretched in a bow at red fingertips easily
As a Tamil naiad woven of elements . . . we spy her whirling
Of longing like to caress demanding waves, to wind her oneness
With fatal shells lying doomed on shorelines, with lines
Of panicky crabs hastening unto a dumb sea of signs.
We laugh at this dream of safety, fossiled in lines, knowing
Sweet specters never kept from what calls without fail.
We turn to the call of cities that swallow their young
In yawns of grey concrete and high-rise dreamcages
Where organs toll requiems for friends whilst we weary with
Crafting poems into chronic stones as trick offerings to god. . .
But our dreams of flight fritter, clogged by alleys of alternatives
Fairies by seas spread open arms; Turn Here! We stay our curse
In memory of friends past, we know we too shall meet our ends
As all do fated too late and far from butterflown, sun yellow fields
We sigh away to our carnages and let all these creep to the edges
Of poems, to fade there with the Chimera. . .amidst our maybe things.
Richard Ali (c) 2010
This week's poem: "Still I rise"
3 weeks ago