Claine Keily

 

 

 

Song of the dead amongst the living

 

Claine Keily

 

I want to be here alone amongst these apples
to hold back myself
from the world of men
I want to sleep again
as I did before I knew you
before I wanted to cut out my heart
and throw it to the seas

I don’t want to hear again
that men do not love as we do
that the difference
goes as deep as blood
that their still mouths are dead
even when they are kissing
I don’t want to learn of the
torture of their acts
nor of the stories they wrap
about even the moon’s circumference
and each woman born to labor

I want to rest awhile
here, alone, without them
so as rumours shall spread
that I have died here

But I am not dead
she can see me
see
‘that there is a stable of gold in my lips’
see that I am a friend to the dying
and not just
this shadow,
these tears

Cover me with night, my veil
I hide because they
have thrown a myriad of
pictures at me
and wet with hard thoughts
they broke me
then led me ashore
to where the pincers of
scorpions bore fruit
and in my wet shoes
I danced timeless tunes

For what I want
is to sleep the dream of
my own sleeping
for the ears of corn to
unfold, unfurl me
to be heard in this
lament for the dead
amongst the living
yes, I the dark child
who cut her heart out
with your mirrors

 

 

 

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