I needed to write this.
Questions for critique:
Do the italics and such work? Do they make some sort of sense?
Imagery - does it flow well? Does it make sense?
There are parts of this story I have of course not told (though, if you go back through my poetry, I have written to this person many times). Do I at least convey how I feel about our relationship well?
"Beast"
The cold slither of Mercury fear
knots silver in my stomach—
I am a gateway,
a stone staircase descending
into the waters of the Styx.
He waits for me in the graveyard,
a Christ who rises towards me,
arms outstretched like a great
new-age vampire come
to lead us all to our graves—
waits for my death and zombie birth,
when I will be dragged
from the embracing dirt
and buried in his pale arms.
I am no Ophelia.
I fill my pockets with stones
and leave stately footprints on the riverbank—
down to sleep I go,
beside Arthur and his court.
Raise no cross over my head,
mark not where I lie.
Bethlehem-born, he carries deserts in his wake,
leaves no drop of water
for me to drink.
Let me go to the sea
and search for pearls forever
where I cannot be found.
Questions for critique:
Do the italics and such work? Do they make some sort of sense?
Imagery - does it flow well? Does it make sense?
There are parts of this story I have of course not told (though, if you go back through my poetry, I have written to this person many times). Do I at least convey how I feel about our relationship well?
"Beast"
The cold slither of Mercury fear
knots silver in my stomach—
I am a gateway,
a stone staircase descending
into the waters of the Styx.
He waits for me in the graveyard,
a Christ who rises towards me,
arms outstretched like a great
new-age vampire come
to lead us all to our graves—
waits for my death and zombie birth,
when I will be dragged
from the embracing dirt
and buried in his pale arms.
I am no Ophelia.
I fill my pockets with stones
and leave stately footprints on the riverbank—
down to sleep I go,
beside Arthur and his court.
Raise no cross over my head,
mark not where I lie.
Bethlehem-born, he carries deserts in his wake,
leaves no drop of water
for me to drink.
Let me go to the sea
and search for pearls forever
where I cannot be found.
