a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Kate LaDew

you give me dreams

 

maybe I’ve never known you

except in that dark somewhere

where people find each other

the shadows highlight your face

and it is beautiful and black and bottomless

and only once in a lifetime does God surrender perfection

you are mine and I am crumbled before you

bleeding into slivers of stars that deepen

and meld with the dark

of your hands

sorrow divine as you

is not given up willingly

and I sleep in tumbles of shadows

black and bottomless

 

 

 

ghosts, god, jesus

 

follow me around my room, waiting in every corner

stock still, bleached robes, teeth gleaming like whited sepulchres

I crawl under the bed, pull my knees to my chest,

let my hair veil my face, a timid bride weeping

I try to push their eyes away, the tips of their fingers,

the crush of their hearts pulsing slow with menace,

invading me in streams of hot faith and power

voices fill my head, my mother, my father,

prodding, be still, be silent, brave,

it will only last a moment and all the world will come to you

through these eyes, these fingers, these pulsing hearts,

I don’t believe them but I wait, wait, spread out my arms,

open against my will, and it is forever when I feel my body shudder,

weight lifting, ghosts lifting. only the springs of my bed visible through the veil,

thin blonde strands jagged

I will feel them inside me my whole life, prodding, prodding

believe, hold us over your heart like struts,

wash your hands in our blood, watch us run down your arms

remember our eyes, our fingers, our hearts breaking you apart

look up, up, up into the sky

make believe you can see us

make believe we made you better

 

Kate LaDew is a graduate from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro with a BA in Studio Art.

 

Copyright 2013  Chantarelle's Notebook