She’s a post,
a steel rail;
me, in another form
swirled in high thread count sheets.
We fucked our way through three cities,
but we never found the nuts and bolts
of tumbleweed and trust.
I’m her support beam
freshly poured concrete,
unwalked street of clotted cream,
a white filmy cataract forming
in motionless doom,
the shadow of heels in
a triangular room.
a stagnant swamp,
a long walk with echo,
nests of self-taught lightning.
And with nothing left to do but scream,
the gray-green China eggs
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
This poem was written for Twisted Tuesday’s Radio Show~ March 8th International Women’s Day. I was inspired by the artwork and life of the American Surrealist painter, Kay Sage. You may notice several of her painting titles, including the title of her biography ‘China Eggs” embedded in these lines of verse. Join me in forging the positive visibility of women and their lives.