Forgiveness and Memory

Leaving her here (with him… alone) makes my heart choke in the pumping of its own blood. But neither instinct nor logic can bring moonlight into eyes that have been shut.

She’s shaking. Not with dread (as she should), but with hope-filled pleasure fed by what lies behind the flash of his sharp teeth. A storm of stillborn action, dammed by my promise to her, thunders behind my eyeballs, threatening to flood the place with reasons why she should run.

Watching his paw possess the small of her back, I yearn for dark woods, for a cottage, and an ax. He presses his snout to her cheekbone. Not the one shadowed by purplish oozing towards green, but the one that sits under unmarred flesh… the one that’s yet to meet his love’s knuckled kiss.

I drop her running-from-his-hell bag at the threshold.

She detangles her body (but not her Self) from him, and walks to the door to hug me goodbye. “Change that face,” she whispers. “I’ve forgiven his mistake.”

I hug her tight against my chest, wanting to hide her cheekbones under my rib cage. With her fragility so close to my despair, I can’t stop the storm from gently thundering into her hair. “Forgiveness is best served with a side order of memory.”

the bright of the moon
casting shadows in winter,
shrouds man-made ruins

inspired by “Forgiveness”,
winner of the ninth Expanding Bits of Fiction and Poetry into Haibun
and linked to dVerse (Haibun Monday, 9)

Gaijin Geisha, by Shelle Kennedy“Gaijin Geisha”, by Shelle Kennedy
(The first time I saw this painting, I wondered about what thoughts could have put that look on the geisha’s face… I guess now I know.)

A Senryū for My Paramour

“Let’s go back to the edge of [the] forest and name the paramours who led us to write… Write about sex, sexualized experience, sexless burning, the kiss of strange winds, the sexiness of death. Write about the arrow’s sheer barb. Or whatever else the paramour might mean to you—say, the strange wood we enter starting the next poem.” These are the words of Brendan MacOdrum, on this week’s Sunday Mini-Challenge: The Paramour, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. I can say nothing but “Yes!” to such a call. So here is my bit:

“A Senryū for My Paramour”

He kisses secret places in the inside of my bones… and adds teeth. His caresses come with nail. When his touch arches my back and his wild thrusts make me gasp, he digs deeper… deeper… I stop him—before his chronic lust can scratch unhealable marks on my soul.

I no longer tell him to stop, just write him hard on foot and back, feeding him tales and poesy… until we both get what we want… or, what we can.

stroking flesh and bone,
my Poesy Paramour
writes off constant hurts

a wee note: I’m sure you noticed that the poem is actually a haibun. However, my Poesy Paramour and I are not in such good terms at the moment. So his bastard self can only have the senryū. Yes, the prose is mine, you greedy pain in the neck… and back… and hip… and gut…

Escape, by Yvonne Palermo
“Escape”, by Yvonne Palermo
(I’ve shared this piece before, but every time I read the artist’s words about the painting, I feel the need to re-share: “Escape is a portrayal of my inner person. The figure depicted represents my ability to let go and accept my constant state of pain in order to continue existing.”)