Through the Skin of Another

I’ve watched your eyes believing to think they can divine true glimpses of me in runes you’ve dreamed were made of bone that once covered my flesh. And I wonder, wonder, wonder… Can’t she see I dance with all my limbs? Hasn’t she noticed her phantom thumbs, those missing bits of her own self that keep her mind’s eye from grasping the runes life has crafted out of her breakings? 

trying to feel me
through the skin of another
leaves your heart alone

 

the (not really) wee (but slightly hysterical) notes…
– after reading, “Sweet Poison” and “If We Forget…” someone felt the need to let me know that she was “heartbroken for [me] and disappointed in [my] husband because”, according to her, the poems told her that my Piano Man “is showing his true man-colors by pushing [me] to doubt his commitment.” My shock, sense of WTF(ness), and respect for irony, figured that perhaps a poem about reading/interpreting poetry would be apt reply for her madness.

– for those of you on Instagram, Kerry O’Connor (@skyloverpoetry) is giving away 3 handwritten poems. Find her there. Tag a friend. Win great poetry.

– want to win prose? Then you are in luck, my Wicked Luvs, Rommy Cortez-Driks (Kestril’s Rhythms and Groove) is giving away copies of her book, The Trouble with Wanting, and Other Not-Quite Faerie Tales. You can enter her giveaways here, here, here, and here she’s giving away all sorts of extra yum.

– linked to Poets United.

 


Bone runes talisman, by ArtofElorhan

I Lick Treats that Nourish My Ink

When you try to shroud my spirit with the same skin that shapes your flesh and keeps your bones from breaking, you Frankenstein lies about me and truths about you. My blood tells tales tasting of terror, but my heart’s tongue does not linger around fuel that gives naught. I lick treats that nourish my ink… feed on energy that grows and delights around wild harmonies that move me.

you can’t feel
me through your living,
you aren’t me

 

the wee notes…
– someone told me, “I’m happy your chemo side effects aren’t as bad as mine.” So, I figured that writing a poem inspired by the feelings the ridiculous comment evoked would be more beneficial to my sanity than shouting: “Oh, really? The skin around my eyes hurts. My tongue is swollen. The heels of my feet are killing me. My joints are about to explode. Most of what I eat tastes like regurgitated MREs. I will not let chemotherapy keep me from exercising because no exercise means bone-splitting stiffness, you stupid twit!” Yep, I’m sure the poem was the better choice *cough*.
– linked to Poets United.

 

some days I’m a bit wicked, other days… well, I feel a lot