Here Again – I’m Here

It’s been a while…though
I can’t remember if this
introduction is the same.
It sounds similar under the
scraping of my nails against
Yorick’s skull. 

Sometimes it comes back to 
me in splintered little pieces
of bone and brick. Sometimes
it’s in the simplified
alliterations I use to qualify
as whatever this is. 

Shakespeare taught me nothing
I can write a mean sonnet,
but only when the world is
rhyme-less or enough of the me
in me comes meandering
to the top

of a freshly unearthed grave.
I wonder when this 
will end. The cycle, I mean.
And from the ground shall arise
a nameless fraud 
to the sound of suffocation.

 

©️Audrey Rosengreen, 2019

 

Melody

I heard a melody
in the mourning wake
of exhaustion.
 
Thought I found a way out.
Words stopped their flow
            	their trickle – viscous
                            	down my throat
 
Fearing the disappearance of air
but curious.
 
 Isn’t it a beauty?
The intonation, the mood of being
          underneath
         In her ghost.
         In his shadow.
         In my belly.
            Buried.
 
My poor Melody. 



Copyright - Audrey Rosengreen - 2019

Full of Shit

I can’t help thinking of you.
Your eyes, umber, do not move
when I say:
“mirrors open up
to a parallel universe”.
Your smile reflects
my foolishness though
you remain un-phased.
Instead you stir me
as I have un-stirred you.
You own me, lovingly –
without restriction to
my oddities in question
en masse. Yes, you move me
to a place beyond parallels.
Where our lips meet
between glass and past
the meaning of eternity.

“You’re full of shit” you say
and kiss me harder.  

 

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2019 ~ For my love. 

Gibberish

I am another body perpetuated in a litany of the same old-
	same old words littered on stolen images. Hackneyed
like the rest of you. My words run as deep as the waste bin,
pooling at the edges -
	Did you know
freckles become the reminders of stupidity
built en masse by the eyes who adored me - relied on the way I
can open my body like the atmosphere. Catching fire
to pollutants - the way it burns reminds me of home. 
	I have a secret
that I can only spell here. This place that's gone
cold with dead quotations - wisdom lost on misspelled repeats. 

I still want to open. To bloom red against the darkening sky
and hit the Earth until I am one with it.
				
					Comfort them when they weep.



© Audrey Rosengreen, 2019