{ Strange Threats of Water Turned Up In Her Cards. }

[delga]

Yesterday, breathe_poetry ran a really beautiful piece by a poet named Hannah Leah.

Strange Threats of Water Turned Up In Her Cards. I.      Drowning in smoke often. Coughing is nothing like forgiveness. She used to fear water something to die with or out. II.     The bathing child sways in a porcelain ocean legs pressed to mermaid wishing to drain clean,        but in the mermaid tale                beauty only learned silence. The child already silent had nothing to lose. III.    The chlorinated girl-child pinched her nostrils from the sting. Two baptisms proved nothing IV.     The garbage disposal ran until flames welled up from the smoking drain defying the faucet. There is no plug to pull, and some flames explode with water, leaving my hands empty and useless— and water useless and empty.

Comments

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

Isn't it a lovely piece? Although, to be honest, water imagery gets me nearly every time.

I am still in love with your icon.

[twincy.livejournal.com]

This is beautiful. I want to quote, but it's all beautiful, so not much point there. (And, poetry month! So nice timing.) I don't know why I skipped it the first time; either exams, or the fact that it was in a weird typeface. (Uh, yes, I am that fickle.)

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

I'm the same but I saw the first line and I have a thing about cigarette smoke. (Disclaimer: Cancer is not sexy.)