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Through a bright afternoon-
a place of amber leaves
and black tarmac- where the wind
rattles around tousled heads
and scarved necks that twist
to see the hide-and-seek sun
between shedding branches, until
the cars that whine in the far-off
rush past like bullets, leaving
displaced air to be embraced
by a waiting line of cold noses,
as a mind wanders its own
road back down south where the grass
grew iced, and very long… that morning
the sun slanted to burnish a copper
coat gold and brown into mahogany
as they danced, these pair of autumn leaves.
From there, west into the evening as
the knowing moon hung above a
freezing porch, where hunched with cold
among discarded boots, a desperate wait
plays out until a door creaks into motion,
and that nothing matters but to step inside
so the moon goes down, and
the suspended moment snaps to fall
into outstretched arms that hold, in
a dawn where stars recede through
gaps in the curtains, dying as streetlamps do,
and bin-men cr
delicate alabaster sinews,
on a wild plinth.
I marvel, because
the only roots I have
are on a badly-dyed scalp,
my little plinth
is riddled with condensation
these winter mornings,
and alabaster and delicate sinews
can only be found
on my wrists where
nobody bothers to look.
My hot fingertips don't dare
to sully snowy smoothness,
but breath glazes sculpted wings
I move a box of hair-colour,
two copies of the same book,
and the dented laptop
so that sunlight filters past
the purple taffeta of a ballgown curtain
until you are lilac.
Robbed. The sun moves
now behind my green velvet gown,
until you become grey in the shade,
and cold, not cool.
Isolated, and missing an ear,
you are stuck there,
as your tendons strain
on that fake, dusty surround,
I am free
to follow the sun
past the green velvet.
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More