Mute MatineeI forgot how to speak. Her tongue,Mute Matinee by ~stonehart
weak as a newborn lamb, struggled under the
syllables, the consonants, the vowels, for me.
I wanted to tell her so many things, but each time,
I opened my mouth to confess, I could not.
I formed the letters with her, aping as much as I prayed,
hoping for the next time, the next heartbeat,
I could tell her, I was dying to tell her, everything.
In the beginning I recited the best. I waxed,
I waned, I was the perfect liar.
Everything could be
explained. Doubts were for fickle, insecure
plebeians. I was emperor, king on high,
of her lies. I lied, until even I, began
to believe it. And when it happened,
I was just as surprised as she was.
Silent. I woke up silent as the tomb.
I could form no more lies. I could no longer
form any word of any king. When she finally left,
I stood still inside our room. The clock ticked.
I didn't remember what it signified, this teller of
the most basic thing---the when.
I could no longer interpret the bald langu
Siren's CallThough soft, gentile labors;Siren's Call by ~stonehart
back pressed deep, huddled,
worrying over all that is,
all that could be,
There is darkness here.
A shadow of shallow doubt---
in the stark black
and white and red
a moan of question. Slick
with sweat, fear, and
uncertainty, there is
a thin veil into unknown
dark pastures where we
begin and unravel.
A book turns, pulling leaflets,
of snow-colored teacups, out of the
ground, exposing. Different truths.
In her arms, lies the world. Tired
from the strain
the effort of slithering before God
too much. In the egg-shell mucus
drying on the skin, the world smiles
a wordless, toothless, empty
grin of remorselessness.
Farewell, graceless song, a
murmur against the heartbeat
against her mother's wrists.
Her child, a map purrs, a melting pot,
of continents trekking across her brow,
her lips, her mouth, into the crevice
of the hollows, of her surprise.
Tides rise and fall, blissfully unaware,
of the dancing of seadrops on her belly.
Ado, ado, goodbye. One tid