My head is stretched from the inside on a long pull.
Stale crackers itch in the deadness of my ear.
My disassembly is in progress. Scratch and rattle,
pulled down, skinned like an onion. Pulled open
with steam and smoke is relief with redemption.
On a branch, over grass that weeps, I held you.
Though we fell, we are still here, on that grass.
I cannot see the sun setting in my own eyes,
yet it slides down, spending its last rays on my eyelids.
The eloquence of light is silence to the sightless.
You are torn off from rain, split from the cloud.
Break the sky, soak earth in mother's blood.
Over ankles in mire, deal with the necessary.
Handle now. Hold this moment, keep it alive.
Bind it with sinews torn from the hide of your heart.
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday afternoon at the Daily Kos community political poetry club.
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments.
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional.
The keyboard is mightier than the sword.
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