Anna

Pinterest

matching pink- stained
lips of mirrors
Anna, sew her flowers to the hair
like an oil-painting smiling,
something conjuring about her patterns,
the wavelength, the folds
all magical maybe.
Anna, in her mid 20’s
auburn ductile head & hair
with sheets of transparent
cling film, susurrus body.

almost a year ago,
a wife & a mother
with tunnels of story
sun-flower hands of mercury
now shifting,
her body movements
inch by inch,
in darkness & solitude
a shape shifter,
a fortune-teller,
rose collector,
anna is all of it,
a crooked truth.
you pluck a flower
& the land becomes barren.

®MVS

---

Anna

Pinterest

matching pink- stained
lips of mirrors
Anna, sew her flowers to the hair
like an oil-painting smiling,
something conjuring about her patterns,
the wavelength, the folds
all magical maybe.
Anna, in her mid 20’s
auburn ductile head & hair
with sheets of transparent
cling film, susurrus body.

almost a year ago,
a wife & a mother
with tunnels of story
sun-flower hands of mercury
now shifting,
her body movements
inch by inch,
in darkness & solitude
a shape shifter,
a fortune-teller,
rose collector,
Anna is all of it,
a crooked truth.
you pluck a flower
& the land becomes barren.

®MVS

---

Eulogy to Poetry

Sugar granules on my eyelids

define the numb, static voice

beneath the waves of poetry,

absolute darkness.

The times flutter on asymmetrical length

hypnotical lifeless mellow tunes.

Words break, poetry aborts

A mother takes a life of her son.

It’s sharp. Black.

As I think, a tree detaches a leaf

As I swirl, a star weeps

End. End. End.

Nature perspires wax,

drooling loose vibrations,

Ink is lacking from my blood.

My blood is blue in reverse order, stale.

How many more tantrums?

Time is satirical,

and my body sinks in pits of crime

Analogies weep and mother smirks.

Time ruins beautiful things,

spring- Ataxia of Poetry.

P.S- It’s not a complete Eulogy, but it’s quite insane to think what if one day it is?

© MVS

---