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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4245 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The Ghost Walks with Arthur Rimbaud Lauriette (Laurie Byro) I have known madness during love, madness that comes in a bottle that pours sepia syrup, given to calm those bursting stars— but I have never known God. God might be liquid, or as you say, a river. God may be music or the vivid breath a child makes when blowing a dandelion. I am not a vowel or a color. Color may be the closest thing to perfection—nightfall when gypsies twirl their fuchsia scarves. When you write, your wrist bandaged and seeping loss, I want to tell you about forgiveness. The beauty of a pocked cheek of one I loved to kiss. I want to tell you about crows and stars, the screeching the howling. The proof that God exists for some, but not for me. |
