Tag: art

wednesday songs

I can hear the city bellowing outside

and Wednesday is groaning out

a lingering goodbye

I am watching your breath rise,

grateful for the air in your lungs

they sing the sun to me

they sing

and there is no longing here

not now, in this calm

there is only the bliss

etched on your skin;

permeating my own

and the sinking feeling disappearing somewhere within

I pour my hopes into a

thought

I let it sit

and learn time does stop

after all

– sheila c.

flame

I dreamt that the gods picked me out of bed

and shook me violently

they had grown tired of my struggle

and breathed bravery into my lungs

i was not born ready for this

but something has changed

it was desire that made me weak

so I will take those parts you claimed

and build a new fire

a new flame to consume the old

and burn the blame

– Sheila C.

 

 

low lights

I’m not sure I’m homesick
so much as starved for a place
that I’ve never known
I’m cherub faced like them
I guess
but not so much stone
too much blood and guts
and hair and muck
In CVS yesterday a lady
followed me around the store
I had a book bag on
and an apple watch
but I still looked “ready to
stole”
at work I’m always smiling
always grinning
tongue pressed up against
the ceiling
weird muscle to flex
but that’s all I know
at night I grind my teeth
and clench my fist inside
my thighs and
I think about Prague a lot
the bridge and the absinthe
and the cartwheels on the Petřín
that might’ve been real freedom
I think.
I watch my movie in a loop
and think of the low-lights
in the storms
the islands made me
this loud
you know
too much sun
and salt water
swallowed and up
my nose
– Sheila C.

bedroom in florida

over time

i have tuned

my eyes to see

(erroneously, maybe)

a subdued wash of color

seeping through wood

as a loaded metaphor

a symbol of my own

martyrdom

or emotional state..

he was not any different

the brushed alabaster

the wooden bed

the “yellow,

like fresh butter”

the contrived meaning

of his growing

affection

how else could i explain the

pulsating snap

of our spines ?

the impression on

a coat of wet

paint?

he is-

he was the bedroom in florida

i hung him in the hallway

and

i don’t think of him often

but great softness

is haunting

even when shuttered

and discounted.

 

– sheila c.