The Saint Killed Her
The
clouds closed in
across
the eyes.
Shrouding
the sun.
that
sun.
something
integral
hardened.
He
had the sweet smile of a child.
And
with eyes like knives
he
slid his thumb across his throat
and
shot his imaginary gun at a man.
And
he laughed and smiled.
But
his eyes were knives.
And
his smile was a child.
He warned her in a hushed voice;
I might hurt you
her eyes grew wide and swallowed his
she gave him her skin
to hide sin
she gave up her hips for his violence
she gave her mouth
she offered her tissue skin
smiled softly, waiting for his sharp
teeth
his sharp knife
the sun tried to melt her
the sun tried it's best
but nothing could touch her
as her heart beat furiously in her breast
the rain had tried to break her
and even eyes had had their go
but her blood was fierce and happy
though nobody should know
the shadow moved over him
and he became the shade
and with his eyes
and with his breath
he cast darkness onto her
she was already a shadow
and so became a black cut-out
and the room became emptiness
and their love an abandoned shell
none of us hold light in our eyes this
fine morning
we all keep the darkest dark
waiting for the night again
so I cant see you
and you cant see me
we bled quietly
together this morning
our hearts bled
our lungs bled
and our fingernails did some bleeding
for our future.
You sighed, and my eyes chased your eyes.
But we didn't solve anything.
I suppose we didn't really try.
Òhe's
from Romania,
he
walks with a walking stick,
but
his walking stick has gone on strikeÓ
(blinking
at the morning. Blinking wide eyed like a baby,
this
man is a drunk
always
in the mornings.
His
face is round like a baby.
He
wears a beanie,
he's
always going somewhere drunk)
you can put that knife
in my chest
I can keep you, in my eyes
my empty palm keeps ghosts
my face closed shut
stitched together with hate and love
you have everything of mine
I have the promise ghosts
let's keep dancing
I have a little bit left
that you can take
you can use for yourself.
Wake
up breaking
and
tip toe through the day
I
hold the ghosts in my arms
embrace
them tenderly
I
keep my eyes on you.
Eye
you tenderly too.
The
sand is compact
and
the waves wash over
cold
and crystal
stopping
but moving
while
everything is still
everything
else moves
as
they crossed through the crossroads
her
mind stopped alone
her
eyes focussed
keeps
her face in shadows
and
she keeps the stones company.
She
keeps stones for company
she
keeps shadows in her.
At
the end of summer
when
the light is blinding
when
the warmth is stifling
she
was stirring then
her
eyes swept away
in
two salt rivers
trouble
with four walls
and
obscured glass
inability
to see the sky
out
in the cold
out
there in the dark
linger
darker memories
memories
made of anger
memories
hard as stone
stones
thrown at each other
stones
from some place other
other
than my own
Katia da Silva