Tuesday, April 9, 2013

First Quarter, 2013, Sixth Selection

Springtime in the Underworld

She sits in her car            waits for the rain to end
listens to classic rock songs             from before she was born
her cigarette flares            in the green radio light
smoke seeps through            clenched teeth
teeth stained with lipstick             red as pomegranate seeds.

Her thoughts wander            through a hothouse
filled with dead orchids            she strokes parchment leaves
brown as nicotine they              drain the color from her skin
and life returns to them             briefly
tear-drop flowers              dangle and coagulate.

That mummified bird she found              under the driver's seat
wasn't an omen              just a reminder note
from a season of amnesia              but feathers pinned to lizard skin
tell her there's no way home             that's free from memory
so she's sleepless because               she prefers not to fly
                                         in her dreams.

--Wulf Losee

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