"Emerging Writers, Serious Writers"

since 2009

Poetry, Prose & More. Join Us!

At Work

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive
 
 sit in the ether
among the bones and sawdust
piecing the skulls together with sugar
and painter's tape
            believing in the solitude of  La Llorona
down the hall
awash with the festoons
f the grave
            yellow and green and red
            and bones
Frida beckons me, “Why do you hate me, Miguel!?”
she cries soft and mocking
            teasing
“...Come, fix my hands, mi hijo...”
I connect the bones, the frame
a work of fingers appearing, flexing
she drags the tip of her pointer
down
my nose
like a blade
and kisses me quietly
            “Bueno,” she says
among the army of marching skulls
and decay

Comments (0)

There are no comments posted here yet

Leave your comments

  1. Posting comment as a guest.
Attachments (0 / 3)
Share Your Location