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Death in spring
poetry [ ]

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by [Aritmosa ]

2004-08-18  |     | 

My love,
I am going to die tonight.
The dusk is falling over these tall acacias –
Their flowers rosy, white and violet blue –
Three subversive brown-skinned men,
Waiting at the window to wail and then
To receive in exchange of romance
Their poisonous sweet Arabian fragrance.

I hope they are not your messengers.
Or are they?
Your voice is creeping through the night
Turning my shadow into a bone fresh and bright.

My love,
I am going to lie down tonight.
The sun was burning my back like a pie,
The moon is burning my face with her omniscient eye.
The sheets still bear the shapes of your thought
I am longing for and I wish I had not.

My love,
I am going to be silent tonight.
A pale horse is trapping sinners on the chaotic alleys of the city.
His shuddering breath is empty of sound and of pity.
I can see his body dissolving potent,
I can touch him bearing it.
In the morning I am going to have another content
And a streak of your heat.

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