viernes, 29 de mayo de 2009

Naked truths

we the naked truths we
tell with our faces
women past forty
beauty borne bare
to the fine bones
lines softened angles
skin worn under the scarlet orange
of many suns risen and set
bone filigree of many
moons waxed and waned many moons
we become transparent under
the square cubic pressure of life
we denizens of the deeps
we sisters of Kali Kali we
tell stories of blood heart marrow and dust
we have collected phalanges phalanges
on the necklace of those who have vanished
into the invisible river of beings now everywhere
this air we breathe
we have been kissed by their waters
lying on sun soaked rocks brief briefly
we gaze upon the inmeasurable density
of blooming quince in springtime
we listen to mockingbird song song song
the knowledge implicit dense overwelming
this understanding that breaks
breaks through our pores
10,000 moist newborn butterflies of light
poised to take to the air
a precious spectre of mortal reality dawning
many cannot bear to look
upon the terrible tender beauty
look upon the truth of it all
we women past forty
beauty borne bare
to the fine bones bones fine bones
by Lorena Lobita Wolfman © May 2009

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