New poem: Passer

feed.xml

@@ -10,6 +10,86 @@
 		<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
 	</author>
 
+	<entry>
+		<title>Passer</title>
+		<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/p/passer.txt" />
+		<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/p/passer.txt</id>
+		<published>2022-04-23</published>
+		<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
+				<pre>
+Dreams of my youth in red,
+painted in bloodshed
+from retribution for crimes
+where my body was ripped away,
+proclaimed
+not mine,
+belonging to someone else
+along with my life.
+Yearning to dig my claws into
+someone else's flesh,
+feel
+the heart giving way,
+no longer obligated to kneel
+at my nemesis'
+behest.
+
+But over this Inside lies a veil.
+And while I lie
+in the land of the blind
+half-seeing with eyes groping
+for a shred of the life
+last life's death made me left behind,
+I cannot go feral, cannot exhume
+the beast inside me built of chaos and doom.
+Imagined revenge in a manner
+that would not bring me harm,
+would never, could never
+be traced back to me,
+never raise any alarm
+bells.
+
+But the skies have grown pale
+on this day laden with angel
+numbers. Death in the family.
+A pet's soul has chosen to set sail.
+The wish is granted. The curse is complete.
+The harm has been done, but it does not taste sweet.
+
+You remember, don't you? My thelema, my fate
+was to love at any cost and forget how to hate.
+There's a difference between the sexes in most that I've seen:
+men opt to destroy, and women first choose to escape,
+choose to from what they find odious themselves separate.
+I don't want my enemies to drop over dead.
+I just want to never have my neck be stomped on again.
+
+Does that make sense?
+
+My mother is mourning upstairs.
+"Mourn." When I had first heard
+in elementary school that word,
+I'd thought it was short for "morning",
+as in, "I am sad and waiting for the sun to rise,
+reassurance that I survived,
+that I've still inside me got some life
+left."
+
+Mother, I hope that one day
+you'll forgive me for taking your baby sunshine away.
+That you'll watch the next sunrise for me
+after my psychopomp has taken me to Sablade.
+The sun is also a star.
+And in time
+another star will rise.
+And I can't believe
+after everything
+I'm saying this, but I hope
+this won't be our last goodbye.
+				</pre>
+				</article>]]>
+		</summary>
+	</entry>
+
 	<entry>
 		<title>In The End Of Everything</title>
 		<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/e/end.txt" />
@@ -239,97 +319,4 @@ much longer."
 		</summary>
 	</entry>
 
-	<entry>
-		<title>Stealing Time</title>
-		<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/s/stealing-time.txt" />
-		<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/s/stealing-time.txt</id>
-		<published>2022-04-04</published>
-		<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
-				<pre>
-The bike path has been sprayed
-with meteors, brown and burnished
-and leaking to yellow, to naught.
-Trees have done their part to furnish
-the path
-with each and every fallen branch
-they could spare. The flags are frayed,
-marking the entrance to Dead End Shrine,
-sandwiched between two rainy days
-and welcoming this stolen time.
-
-This stolen time,
-I've come to find,
-is the only place where I can live.
-Leaving work early,
-wings unfurling
-to mark a time loop created,
-these bike trips where far too long I've left
-to not come home covered in muck and sweat
-and yet somehow never do,
-the severed hours after bedtime
-when comes to me all these rhymes,
-rest of family long self-sedated.
-
-I don't like this waiting.
-
-I don't like the parting
-when comes time for my love to once more return home.
-"Please don't go.
-Either stay
-or take
-me with you."
-
-Every natural process of life
-that I've ever shied
-away from
-becomes
-less able to terrify
-with her at my side.
-I've made my peace
-with the regular bleed
-whether from womb or breast,
-the growth of velvet patches
-along my hips and chest,
-the hot flashes,
-the persistent desire
-to rip open my seams
-and throw my guts to the fire.
-
-But my brain refuses to cooperate with me.
-It's stealing time,
-stealing memories.
-I know that forgetfulness is my domain,
-but there's still some recollections
-I'd like to remain.
-
-There's still some reflections
-I don't recognize.
-Stealing someone's body,
-looking out through their eyes,
-wearing like a coat their spirit, their life.
-It makes sense in the moment,
-the logic of how their life goes,
-but I wake up and I wonder
-why
-this stranger is so vivid
-but not my own exploits in the Outside.
-
-I promised her that when came
-the day
-for me to give up this vessel and die,
-I'd let her climb into my bed with me
-instead of kneeling at my bedside.
-Emulating that which my mother
-did, but trading one body for another.
-One last breach out of the womb.
-One last parent-induced cry.
-
-And after we leave, I promise you
-
-I'll make up for the stolen time.
-				</pre>
-				</article>]]>
-		</summary>
-	</entry>
-
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