The Place We Know

You bend as the boughs 
in the warmth of Autumn
bared naked to the 
colder nights or distant gaze
in her terrible honesty. 

She moves to sway you…
(not unlike the gentle breeze)
but breaks each brittle vein
in attempts to gain what little
lingers on each branch –

bending still in the aching
evening set quiet to your love.
Still you reach, r e a c h, r   e  a  c  h –
snapped before her feet and
thrown into the fire

where there your body heats
her crumbling castle. 
The place your yearning built
(the place I know you know)
so sadly, long ago.

©️Audrey Rosengreen, 2019

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. 

The Last Time

It’s just like the last time –
worse though, I think
because nothing comes to mind
mind you, when I’m minding
my business as intended.
Emptiness bubbles up
from an empty well and I
wonder, well, how can that be?
There’s always something
in the emptiness, I mean.
I blame it on the happy.
Casually dying –
freely, absolutely.

I don’t mind it much, though.
It subsides like
fire on scattered weeds,
no place for me to feed.
And that’s just fine, I think.
Right, just fine. Yet, so
unlike the last time.

 

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2019