literature

The Conversation Between Muses

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Literature Text

She locks her heels in the mirrors beneath
cracking each into pieces that melt
into what they’ve always been.
puddles slipping over the gray cement
with the colors, the reds, the blues, neon
that reflects the surface like betas
who clash underwater, the lights of their souls
extinguishing with each flicker of the street lamp
and each drop of dew from the lonely tree
that sprouts from the sidewalk.

The bass in her ears muddles like amniotic
fluids, pounding with the drums of turquoise aquarium lights
bubbling, spilling greens and pinks from windows
over her sleek face, which collects the palette with a thirst.
white as porcelain and smooth as ice,
her broken chains that drag from her ankles
leave streaks of pure imagination over the chipped potholes
and lifeless drain-grates.
rattling sounds of overhead trains
break her music and send her gaze up,

where her favorite person sits, legs swaying.
from the rusted rails, his fingers run sweet,
heavenly white stripes over the patina,
a black smile with sparkling-galaxy teeth
whispers for her to come near, while he
motions to his ears, for she cannot hear
with those sounds in her head, can she?

She pulls the ‘phones down around her neck,
and blinks to the blackness, where the walls are blank,
and things are quiet.
I haven't uploaded any respectable anything in forever, so here's a little poetry.
© 2013 - 2024 domnotte
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