Thursday, May 30, 2013

Of You, Who Do Not Know Me (A Poem)



You do not know that girl,
Do not pretend to believe she is unreal
In her nefarious tight jeans and black shoes.
Her wrists jingle a solitary beat
Of bangle bracelets and stretched hemp,
Do not pretend to commiserate with her
The feel of a brash caress across
The most tender parts of your exposed flesh.
Her shoulder bag is full of old books,
Abandoned poems on the backs of the receipts
Of things she doesn’t remember buying,
All symbolic of her love life, relationships.
Do not pretend you are familiar with the poets she reads,
Do not act as if you’ve read her hand-written letters.
Her mind as open as a silver screen of the 1930’s,
She is not as impressionable, she does not carry
beads and a rosary, and only bows to the higher power
Of her own entity, of mantras, mesmerized by the life
Of one lone flower as if she were her own Buddha.
Do not act as if her prayers are evil,
Do not pretend to know whom she prays to.
Her mind is a constellation that twists itself across
The world, gone mad in its greed,
Deceptive in it’s sunny skies and smiling faces
And come nightfall she writes to forget, to remember.
Her words become conversations
to everything she doesn’t know,
And all the things none of us will ever understand.
Alone with the sky and her own mind, she plucks stars
From within the shadows of a new moon’s glow,
Stuffs them into her back pockets,
Tosses them into polluted streams,
And swallows the rest with her morning coffee.
Do not act as if she is delusional in her bows and smiles,
Do not pretend you’ve tasted her same stars.



Written from a prompt at Poets United.

6 comments:

  1. Your poems are Beautiful darling. :)

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  2. aw, thanks :) glad you enjoy them!

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  3. ...you clearly justify yourself here... it's good to read a personal poem with a bit mix of narcistic views... and your finale def jump out of my head... great write & prologue to self... smiles...

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