Tuesday, December 09, 2008


Brass petals fall in a liquid cavalcade
and the masked man smiles.
Debonair, dashing; he holds a pistol
to your eye, hands you a solitary

He won my life at cards and now
he will eliminate it. A ripple,
like the water, curving, sweet;
the taste of mango rests on the tongue.
The world rests. Water drips,
forming a tattoo upon the inside of my
wrist. Silver droplets that spatter
the skin that hides the vein. Blue
pulses within, turned red upon
exposure to the nicotine air.
Copper flares like fire; my eyes
are golden still. I will not fear.

Forgotten angels flare to life,
so subtle, he cannot hear them.
Whispers borne on prayers,
sinful letters rising from the ground.
Tormented, contorted, crouched
upon the earth, blackened, distorted,
they plead for mercy. Letters that
left my lips, how harmed, how fallen;
the black encroaches, torments; they scream.

Melting, the flesh evolves. Sloughing off
the skin, there is no body. It lies upon
the ground, dark, a shadow. My true self
springs to life, mercury. Poison to the living,
beauty for the dead. A flower wreath
placed on my head, roses red as the
breathless lips.

Still they scream. The letters tear at
my spirit-flesh. I am tattooed, imprinted
with the marks of words I did not mean;
I burn with them upon my body.
I lost my life at cards; the letters
claim their vengeance.


Anonymous said...

Interesting play of words....

Chana,keep your "thinking side" in charge to make life run more smoothly.

Anonymous said...

The randomness of life.

Anonymous said...

can you please post notes of the kashrut forum, the webcast was horribly choppy.

Anonymous said...

The kashrur forum webcast was choppy indeed. Looking forward to the notes(btw,did you even have the time to attend?). Thanks.

Gregory Pearlman said...
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