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EulogyA dereliction of hair vines your face,
and I recall the way ivy hugged the muddy bricks
when we allowed the days to oversee our construction.
I caress the cracked barrens of your cheek;
the epitaph of your smile is scratched in paddocks,
a dusty home for grass-seed dreams left fallow.
We invited rain, but only Autumn attended us.
The parched expanse of your skin invites water,
and I remember the river, clogged with salt;
the soft moans of the withered eucalypts,
and the one tussock of grass by rusted pumps.
Bushfires were a mercy for them.
Your casket moves beyond my reach,
and I hear the creak from when we closed crack-timber gates
and we coaxed the ute out of its charred depression
and we took the few boxes we had saved
and we moved to a caravan on the coast
and we talked of water and weather and we floated...
until now, with only the soft sound
of waves in the distance, and a priest in my ear,
I watch as the fires finally claim my home.
Memorial under StreetlightsRemember:
the drag of grit against shredded skin,
our chilled spasms on concrete pillows;
we were siblings to cracked paint
and the broken windows of orphaned alleys;
our tribe hunted under steel canopies,
each kill stripped, cleaned,
and sold on anew to feed us.
the taste of ozone in the fretting wind
as exhausts roared their challenges;
our wings were tied to the ground,
yet we chased Icarus through traffic lights;
we ignored the bright city's aging, tired song
and crazed through the streets of our youth.
But after the race is done:
when hair resembles a sanded down chassis
and only time still scars our faces;
when the city's slow song is our guide,
and the engines of our minds grow cold;
when the steel of our limbs rust
and our eyes cannot see the road,
On drinking beer alone
Take its mouth like a conch,
portal to a violent sea,
and let its tongue slip
over yours. Hear
it storm against your teeth,
swallow. Do not care
if it is French or not.
We are sommeliers
of a lower order.
Anxiety sinks, thought
fumbles for a raft. Stop.
Remember you are bored.
Worry not: you have half
a case and yourself.
You smile and touch your lip,
drop your eyes to the bottle:
empty as the man
who left you here
helveticaevery day is garbage day somewhere,
and the birds on my street
line the pavement like soldiers
as friday's tank creeps
down the boulevard,
crumbs of newspaper billowing
from its war-torn mouth.
the crows flutter sultry
in the morning sun
toward headlines trailing the street
cramming bold-print helvetica
into their beaks
as the ink stains the asphalt.
the hard year.
in the hard year
the house was a bruise-
blood clotting and pregnant
beneath the wood.
the rooms held darkness longer
and smelled of life in reverse-
our young bodies bent, but tight as clothes-pins.
the flowers in the yard were firecrackers
and more than once I slept
in a weed jungle, fingers stripped cables,
wrapped in chicken wire boxing gloves.
in the hard year,
you hit like your father
and I climbed stairs
without making a sound.
642019"I wrote something
today," I told the
caterpillars on my desk
for the six hundred
time, clutching words
in my fist like a
loose-leaf cocoon, wings
beating hard at my fingertips like
they want to
I peeled the paper
back and watched
a brown moth
twitch and die
in my hands
damn it, crumpled it up and
tossed it with the rest
of the failed
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More