Drawn Like Knives (25th June 2008, 11.05am)
Your innocence shaded in pencil by artistry
greater than mine. I suppose I am pen and ink,
just a series of stark little lines: blunt.
Catch my breath on the look in your eyes,
sharp as a scissor blade cutting out sense
from words that are loaded like guns,
and pointed at my lungs before I can breathe
again. Sentences fashioned from chalk
blurred at the edges, open to interpretation.
Without hesitation, fingers reach out
to trace brail tears that fall from my eyes
and run down my face, making their escape
before the flood. Accusations brought out,
drawn like knives across the surface of my
heart, a simple pattern you happen to carve,
and what if you’re right? Truth has been
disguised as lies before. We bring out our
weaponry, unsure what we’re fighting for.
Comments
animan | June 25, 2008 - 23:28
There is of course sadness here, which is coupled with such poise and delicacy, and such sureness in the line that I am in awe of it - truly. I like the way it weaves assertion with hesitancy. I like the way it speaks its mind and holds its nerve. I like the bluntness and the shadedness of it - the fact that it is both and not just one.
Dynamaso | June 25, 2008 - 23:37
I love the way this rhymes and the delicate imbalance it the whole piece, very much in keeping with the emotions you speak about.
What a wonderful piece, Jen.
anipani | June 29, 2008 - 12:56
Brilliantly wrought poem, and the last verse is just wonderful.heart achingly resonant. you are on a roll here at the mo! ani