Walking

Source: shadechamber

The Raven

Great Auntie kept a raven under glass in her dusty living room full of curious things

Mother and I sipped tea there on Saturdays Mother and Auntie sipped and chatted While that long dead bird Stared at me with its glassy eye

I sipped seen not heard Under the gaze of this bird Wishing terribly for another cookie

The ladies gossiped and tutted Auntie even reached over and pinched my cheek “Such a good quiet girl”

The raven just stared at me Seen not heard Sealed in its glass

I imagined it soaring Under a blue mild sky Instead of being seen not heard At this Saturday tea

We had a lot in common That dead bird and me.

-Skye

Image: Poland,1932 Photography: Henryk Poddebski, Poland 1932 Source: polishcostumes

Dziado

Came from Slavic wheat Farming Polish fields under the sun Breaking bread with his mother and sister At end of day

Peasants they owned nothing Not the land Not the wheat Not the roof above them On cold winter nights

War washed him from the continent And off to America With his wife and baby girl

And though he is long dead I still see him

Caring for his cows Feeding his pigs Cooking his eggs With his garden onions Under his own roof.

-Skye

Photograph: Desolata by Vigano Alessandro Source: Fallowstore

Purgatory

Cloaked in the weight of human shortcomings The regrets you carry with you Are not the currency of the ferry man

Death does not release you from your debts Shuffle along with the masses Through the vast grey nothing You have miles and miles to go.

-Skye

Saturday Afternoon

I would peel you apples just to see fall’s crisp juice color your lips.

You are so far from me

though

that I wield the knife mutilating the fruit

and bury Eve’s sin deep beneath pastry.

Perhaps the smell of it cooling on the window sill will bring you here

and I will yet taste your mouth

and know everything.                  -Skye

The girl cutting apple, 1938, Andre Derain

In Deep

One night in a bath of stars Skin slick dripping starlight

I let myself down below the water

The burn to breathe casting star shards Beyond closed eyes

Then there is just me on the edge of the universe heaving breath into the void -Skye

artwork | Ishii Nobuo

Photograph Title: “Angel of Death” Sculpture of a Funeral Gondola, Venice 1951 Photographer: Paolo Monti

Gondola

May the angel go before you and clear the way

I will ride with you but only to San Michele

Gliding by Our favorite haunts The rainy doorway where we met Our favorite espresso The hat shop where you bought me that Fantastical hat

My memories, My loud weeping My love so still in your box

During our last gondola ride.

-Skye

Photographer: Tartarchuk Nikolay Source: elinka

The Dead Sea

Quicksilver Crystalline Cut with milky sun Salt grows Out of barren Water.

-Skye

Artist: Laura Berger Source: Virtual Art Curator

Stout Women

Hold each other up A collective of acrobats

Balancing upon each other So, no one will

Fall.

-Skye

The Wraith’s Requiem

Thin strips of flayed flesh String the bow.

Time is always conducting us in and out of measure.

The ghost of my own making holds fast to darkness

Though, I let go so long ago

Learning to play for no one with fingers once broken

Beautiful terrible music unleashed into the world for me for me

for you.

-Skye

Requiem by Burak Ulker

Image Source: leben-bleibt-wirr

Seeping Through

Parts of me The form and shape Of things

Once lost emerge

The soft belly exposed One arm coming free

Fleshy plaster Flakes and crumbles

You my dear, Are disgusted

The plaster on the floor The dust on my mouth The damp spreading stain Coating your fingers.

-Skye