Thursday, April 2, 2009

Crown Jewel

White candle wax drips silently
releasing warmest scents to touch
rounded dabs on top of softest
safest evening
Tragedy.

Sensuous,
Dark writhing lines
of tiny beings rush by towards
clumped unfinished bits of bread
you offer on
your cardboard boxes
Flat
obtrusive
thieves of floor space

Wind asserts supremacy
the ants expand in brilliance
fleeting second,
dark,
All shadows die.

7 comments:

Shadow said...

this has a touch of the surreal to it...

Strawberry Girl said...

I actually see the tragedy... somehow as someone languishing in poverty or apathy. "Crown Jewel," the dripping wax, perhaps?

Linda S. Socha said...

Yes Surreal....and all too real
Juxtaposition....Beautiful
Linda

CathM said...

There is something hollow and sad in this poem... although, on the surface there is a superficial facade of beauty... I read this and I think of the many 'masks' we wear in life as we get on with everyday reality...

SarahA said...

I love her. The surreal, the real combined and she can be read in so many ways.
The second stanza my fav, with the sharpe images conjured in my mind.

HoneyBee said...

It does sound like a homeless guy out sharing bread with the freeloading ants. Is he dead in the end?

Kimberly Moore said...

Tragic beauty!