The Spot

 

Dead
Blind
A zone without range
Empty
Void

We cross it each morning
Cursing and laughing
We wait
Calmly
Patiently
For life to 
Beat
    again

And it does
           Always
it does

But 
   there are 
            times
Other times

The underworld 
              Arises 
without warning

Signals disappear
Signs are misconstrued
Codes long broken become
Impenetrable

And we are 
          Lost

Until

From the left
A light
A faint
       Blue
Pulse

A dichrotic throb
As though 
         doubling
Might make the difference

And so it does
So 
  something
does

And the impasse
Dissolves
     Fades
         Passes
into memory

Becoming nothing 
                more 
than the shimmering penumbra
of a once
         intractable
Pain


©sdrogers 20 june 2015




 






At the End of the Day

a hackneyed
     trite
        bromidic
phrase
we are become
we are become
we are 
      be
come

but, oh
shame 
     on you
shame on you
shame 
     on you

for making me 
believe
for working so 
hard
at making me
believe

for being
         such 
A Good Liar

your body 
full of 
Old Man Strength
your words 
full of 
Young Man Charm

yes
shame shame shame
on
  you, Papi

you oh so Graven
image

my Death lies too
beyond that line
across that hill
down that road you
ride
to 
  ward 
      me

never so close
never so far
            away

my Death rises
flat head hooded 
Siddhartha's Cobra 
an evanculous embrace
cooing me close with the 
crook of each bend

my Death is
kinder than you

it has promised
Nothing
and shall deliver
All

just as it did
in Dachau
when your fingers 
closed 
so lovingly
so cravenly
around my
         throat

At the End of the Day
At the End of the Day
At the
      End
of the
Day 


 






Gifts of the Revenant

No matter what
It is never enough

To lay in your lap
the tenderest suckling
its tiny bones a crack
in my mouth
despite all care
despite the gentle
pad
of tongue upon teeth

To lay at your feet
the hardest beast
dragging, heaving 
with the last of my
strength
a steaming kill

No matter what
It is never enough

I am 
still and always
the ghost

The white ghost 
with blazoned blue eyes, 
a grey shade 
slunk back, curled quiet 
in the shadows 
a silver specter
silently cleaning these 
ever-spotted,
ever-bloodied 
paws

Awaiting
the chin chuck
the head pat
the scratch 
behind the ears

Awaiting 
whatever Time
and 
   They
may allow

It is never enough
No matter what
Never enough


©sdrogers 28 december 2014



The Clone Wars

Your laughter
             rings
me
like chimes against 
the moon.

The breath of you
                 lifts
me 
up and out and beyond

         into

where
there is
only light
where
there is
only love

where
all the
      demons
            disappear
forever.


©sdrogers 12 june 2014


Stillborn

in the box
on my side
knees pulled
up

twisted just
            enough
to face the
top

because

it is
through the top
the poriform
            top
of the box
that his 
        voice
will trickle 

teasing me 
with sunlight
bathing me 
in ashes

in the box
in the dark
in the quiet
I paint the
in
  side

using what
colours
I have

blood
mixes well
          better
than you might
expect

with ash
it shines like
oils

with tears
it runs like
waters

and sweat will
bind
it almost like
gouache

in the box
I paint 
with fingers
with eyes
         closed

dried and candied
flowers
fingerprints
feathers
and 
   always

the faceless figures
that fall and float
breathless and blue
atop the wide
lemniscate 
          waves



©sdrogers 17 may 2014


Perpetuity

I am not
        Wife
I am not
        Mistress
I am something
              Other
entirely.

I am the design
for which you
searched
so long, so far.

Until finding, 
you lay me cold
in the hands of
a stranger
stretched out in 
his chair
and closed your eyes
against light that never
dims.

I am the blue
that dripped into your
blood
becoming One.

Until now, 
there is nothing to
cleave.
Wherever you cut
wherever you break
the blue of me 
bleeds.

I am the pain
each pierce of the
needle
just deep enough
(a little deeper)
each puncture shooting
me through.

Until at last, 
I dissolve into the
ragged breath 
rising
from your wounded
heart.

I am the beauty
the enigmatic beauty
that can neither be
hidden 
      nor
erased

the inexplicable beauty
of which you shall
never
     be
free

No
not even 
in the
      grave.

©sdrogers 23 march 2014

Pablo Would Know

How to tell you
Goodbye

Quietly
Deftly
Each word a softly
Spoken missive
A lullabye

A lull
A bye

I can only prattle

Babbling on and on
Searching
As always
As ever
For the word
For the
       One
Word

That will make
Everything
What it is
          Not


©sdrogers 4 march 2014