Powerful Freaks

We are powerful freaks;
some winged, others gilled…
all a universe of promising chaos.

I started seeing through dark-mooned skies,
my smile sharpened,
I took to weaving my fate.

When the first pet went missing,
friends and strangers whispered,
“She has all those legs now,
all those eyes;
that stomach is too large,
too monstrous
to be filled with just guts.”

While I was still naïve
enough to kiss hope on the mouth,
expecting it would kiss back,
I whispered explanations:
“My opisthosoma cradles my heart.”

But the Stones that made some of us Mythical
didn’t only expose our inner essence,
it also showed us powerful (perhaps too powerful)
in the eyes of men too scared
to see that our new shells housed the same old Selves.

they called me nasty bug,
recoiled (then trembled) when I was near;
some tried to crush me like an insect.
So many mistakes were made.

I considered smirking sharply into their flesh,
filling their veins with venomous rage,
liquefying self-inflicted blindness into convenient foods…
But I was a vegetarian,
in those nearly forgotten days.

a wee note…
– I was rereading my “Belle du Freak” poem, in order to write the short piece I was supposed to post today (but didn’t, since I just published “Large, Powerful, Wild”, and two consecutive short stories felt like a bit much). Revisiting the poem left me wondering about the spider woman’s background, thinking, why did she have to hide in a terrible circus? “Powerful Freaks” seems to be part of the answer.
Opisthosoma is the posterior part of arachnids’ bodies, often called abdomen, but different from it, since it also contains the respiratory organs and the heart.

written for May Monster Madness ← follow the link to visit other deliciously mad participants; and do visit the madness instigators: Little Gothic Horrors, Annie Walls, and Something Wicked this Way Comes…

linked to Poets United, Poetry Pantry 254

Spider Web Desktop Background
Spider Web Desktop Background


Wet Dragonfly Wings

I had lived long enough to have forgotten what my kind did to its old. “I dreamed of flying,” I said to my younger brother, holding on to his hand as we walked through the dragonfly garden. When his eyes moistened, I added, “Don’t fret. They are just dreams, not madness.” Dragonflies flew high over our heads… the largest of dragonflies.

“You won’t make it across without a snack.” My brother detached an egg the size of a grape from the back of an enormous leaf. “Don’t be like that.” He said when I twisted my face and stepped away from him. “Just pop it in your mouth and swallow. You won’t have to eat another for as long as the trip lasts. I promise.”

Reluctantly, I put the egg in my mouth. It was warm. I let it nest on my tongue for a few seconds. Closing my eyes, I raised my head to elongate my neck, hoping it would ease the swallowing process… The egg wouldn’t go down. I tried reaching for my throat, but my brother was holding my arms behind my back. I opened my eyes to beg him to stop, and watched as a swarm of dragonflies rushed down towards my face.

Panic bent my neck forward with a crunch. I dropped on hands and knees coughing out shell pieces, unable to breathe. Before darkening, my old eyes saw a wee woman crouching by my left thumb, wet dragonfly wings protruding out of her back. After an old man-giant blew my wings dry with his breath, I flew with mine for the first time.

To fly in the sky,
swallow a dragonfly egg
and forget humans.

for Magpie Tales 270 and the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Tuesday Platform)
Ulrike Bolenz“Kleine Libelle” by Ulrike Bolenz