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Apollo's Lyre

Poetry by Rave Drake
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Dead Dog Days Under Water

 

I pass the corpse of a dead dog every day on the way to the grocery store. Its odour, like all the foul odours in this city, is preceded and followed by the stench of vomit that even the flood rains can't wash away.

 

I've learned to stand in awe of this place, its brutal beauty, the bohemian flower girls peddling bikes they built by hand, the flesh parade of yuppie joggers, dodging gun-toting teens riding the stolen bikes of the self-same bohemian flower girls, and a human statue collecting dollars in the rain to help pay for his condo-converted slave shack.

 

But I can never get used to the stench of that rotting corpse, an intimation of my mortality, my obligation to the imperatives of flesh and time.

 

In the dead dog days of summer I search for a home that is immune to the hurricane floods, a forlorn hope in a city under water.

 

 

Tongue-Tied

 

Within your squalid heat

I shrivel like a paper house

A shuddering foreclosure

On a prehistoric beach

 

In the cave of flaming winds

I spoon your lips like porridge

With taut, assassin's fingers

I crack your plastic thighs

Clawing pockets, sculpting sockets

Mumbling vague desires

 

Despite my mummy features

I'm lifelike in this light

A votary of ruin

On a trackless stretch of night

My limpid eyes like telescopes

Collapse the standing vista

 

When I kiss your mouth

Your embalmed and toothless mouth

A fragrant furor fumes

And in the solemn silence

You cauterize my wounds

 

 

Exile

 

Mother immortal, bride eternal

Beloved death of my body

You feed my hunger and starve my love

 

I embrace the pain you speak in the shadows

Summon ghosts to feed the terror in your eyes

Knowing that only the dread of you might keep me away

 

A wordless barb darting off your tongue

I was ejected from your mouth

My ancient syllables splitting from your scorn and silence

 

I remove my body from this shadow I carry

A memory, a mirror of your rejection

The one I embrace in dreams

 

I whisper to you, wind of a mother

As you scatter the remains of a healing hand

Fingers, bones thrown to the hounds of doom

Return the body of my youth

So that I may once again be your groom

 

I catch shadows of your smile

Still smell the odor of betrayal that spirals up from the bog and swamp

Your old hangouts

You are the only memory of daylight I have before the bombs fell

Before the clocks took over

 

Even the treachery of demons and thieves is no match for your silence

I find but then lose sight of your name

Written in blood between the pages of my eyes

 

I forsake the web of lies that is your love

This trivial pursuit of home and hearth

I toss your greedy laughter from my lips

When you break through

My body trembles, my sex eludes me

 

I have become a blur

Reshaped from the holy clay you smuggled from the depths of sea and sorrow

 

Mother immortal, bride eternal

Return my voice and shadow

I can no longer sleep standing up in this open grave without you

 

 

Sorrow

 

Sorrow endures while desires languish

Lady Heartache speaks without a language

She unwrites your heart's bold song to God

Pain you can decode she can always defraud

 

She devours your anguish and drains your regrets

Repays your debts with a quick and kind death

What she does not owe you is your wish to forget

That love's milk and mire won't always stay wet

 

Dead lovers incarnate the black suits you wear

Crowded graveyards obligate your deepest despair

Mourning veils obliterate your face and shame

While Sorrow bestirs what only faith can sustain

 

She misplaces time in a blackhole of years

Cleanses your blood in a torrent of tears

The dread she reveres grows fat on your fears

Skies fall and worlds stall when Sorrow comes near

 

Lady Heartache spirals when reason rebounds

Her heavy spirit holds you fast to the ground

She knows gateways to oceans underground

Longings long buried, bereavements unbound

 

She discards your heart's closing wounds

Replaces a limb or an eye with a soulful bruise

Woos barren private parts with her funeral blues

Grief you can explain she must always refuse

 

The ghosts of longing suckle unborn flesh

The most hopeless bodies cling to new breath

Decay demands skins and the darkest bones

Misery receives guests but Sorrow lives alone

 

 

Rave Drake was originally from Boston. Seven years ago, she moved to Grant County, New Mexico, where the mountains and open spaces provided her with a great deal of inspiration. She started conjuring poetry when she was 11 years old. Within recent years, her explorations of mythology and etymology helped to fuel her writing ambitions.

 

Her work has been featured in the 2004 Ink Spot Anthology of Poets, Las Cruces Poets and Writers Magazine, Tales of the Talisman, the Fall 2006 edition of Illumen magazine, the March 2007 edition of the ezine Aoife's Kiss, and the Summer 2008 edition of the webzine La Lune Bleue Planete. Some of her newer material was featured in the April and June 2009 editions of Decanto magazine and the June 2009 edition of Apollo's Lyre.

 

Her work reflects an ongoing exploration of and fascination with assorted mythic realms and multi-dimensions of the imagination. For years, she’s been interested in poetry as an act of conjuration or spellcraft, taking as a given that archetypal space/time is fully inhabited with various aspects of the soul/self.

Copyright 2003-2012 by APOLLO'S LYRE
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