Jesus Calling

The night before
She stands inside
The bulging, burgeoning 
Closet.

What will I be tomorrow?
Pink and pearls?
Grey and gold?
 
Will she dress
To impress
          or
To cover?

There is always
               so
Much
To cover.

Morning rises.
Shower not bath
Never bath
To sit so
         still
       so
         long
In water
       so
         hot
With time, 
           Well,
No. Oh, no. Just
                 No.

Not when there is
The Mirror
To be faced
The Mirror
Whose price inflates
Whose toll increases 
With every passing year.

To lift the droop
Suspend the sag
To fill the sallow hollows
That darken and deepen
With every lie

To plump the lips
Worn out
Worn thin
By each apology 
               never made
By every promise 
               forgotten

To span the crevasse
The ever-widening crevasse
Between who she 
                Is
And who she
           Claims
To be.


There is no pink
Light enough
There is no ink
Dark enough
To fill the expanse
Of that limitless
                  Void.

Still she tries.
Each morning she
                 tries.

Spackling the wrinkles
With new and heavier
                    Layers 
Of hypocrisy,
Watching it settle 
Into the lines
Like fine French
                arsenic
Feeding flesh to bone.

"You still got it, Sister!"

She winks at the glass that
                           withers
Beneath her gaze.
Then gathering the blackened
                            bits
Of her soul into a green velvet bag, 
She slithers behind the latest
Luxury wheel, turning the key,
Shaking her head,
"Late again".

Knowing 
        He
Waits
Obvious and open
Atop her slick office desk
Flayed and splayed,
                  Calling
Unheeded 
Unheard
       Forsaken.








Areel

Closeup.

There was a
chance,
a very real
chance,
that he might
disappear
completely
into her eyes.

Take.

What would that
be,
to disappear
completely
into such a darkness.
What would that
take
from him
What would that
give.

Low-angle.
Extreme.

Without label
Without title
Without purpose
beyond keeping the
light
always
just where she might
find it,
just where she might
tilt her head
just so
just where
she might never be
cold
again.

Cross-cutting
no more.

No more
bits
of life strewn
across another
floor,
no more
edits
no more
jumps
no more
wipes.

Just the
Iris-in
of silence.
And the
Dissolve
of life
as it was
meant
to be lived.

©sdrogers 10 february 2014

Tears of Helios


of course you are
right
my darling,  my one
as so often
you are

no one will
know
or knowing,
remember,
or remembering,
understand

ah, but the
clues
we shall leave
my lover, my own
the clues

each but a
piece
of who we are
of who we were
of who we
might have
been

ambergris crypts
of ever
of never
that come alight
only at night

my strength

my heart

                   my other

my home

©s rogers 28 may 2012