The Poetry Of.
Deborah Rey.....................................
... isn't it?
I'm on my back
throat bared
shouting out a
mea culpa
I don't mean,
waiting for you
to snap close your
jaws, rip out my
voice, become the
master, set the rules,
make me follow
blindly; without
any question bow
while looking at
your omnipresent
pensive, penetrating
portrait, smile and all.
For that is what
you want, or
isn't it?
I'm mentally
straight, though,
and standing tall.
I'm used to this,
have lived it
many times before,
in - sad perhaps
for you - much more
important situations.
I have been called
an idiot before,
been screwed before
been fucked before.
You must be the fucker,
with me as the fuckee,
that is what you
want, desire, and need.
Isn't it? You poor
emasculated
Superman.
I am a Head
Her fingers fly over the keyboard
as she screams out her anger and
frustration ... her fingers still
can fly, the last part of her body
capable of any normal movement,
the rest slowed down, near frozen
in painful immobility;
legs sending signals of distress
with every step, vertebrae crunching
with all moves for lack of disks,
joints without cartilage yelling
SOS ... SOS ... even when she
sleeps. Nothing works, nothing
helps give life a bit of physical
fun, going out, shopping, walking
on the beach a sweet memory and
nothing more. Her mind the only
part of her still in working order.
"I am a Head," she taps in overdrive,
"I speak my Soul, I am."
Later
The day has been a long one
filled with fears and tears
and hurt and pain,
the day has been a full one
full with G-d and light
the devil and hell
later,
but now,
let's lie down and rest
feel each other's naked body
stroke foreheads eyebrows
cheeks and mouths to kiss
later,
but now,
let's feel flanks and hips
and chests and breasts feel
nipples navels bellies hips
feel further down and feel
the tender fire we will burn
later,
but now,
let's kiss and let me
lower my silken lips
onto you, slide you into me
until you can no further
hide inside, release inside
later,
but now,
steer my hips press
your hand upon my belly
and move along with me
a slow motion blue rondo
now come with me come
into me and fall asleep
still inside me, awaken
with me and smile
later.
*The poem, "I Am a Head" appeared first in
'La Fenetre' ~ an international literary magazine.
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