Smoking Cigarettes after Noon

pexels-photo-1098012

*image found HERE

Smoking Cigarettes after Noon

Watch,
what most call touch
is thistle;
listen,
a layer among the layers
silent in the bedrock.
Machine language,
viral like soil,
incandescent
like ripples in a soup.
Wait for the dead to fall asleep,
proceed;
swipe the sweat of their brow with cashmere.
pain
is a taught persistence.
Names –
a ritual of needless
in the effigy’s spine.
Gulp. Gurgle. Gush.
Teach yourself to swallow a whole cherry.
Heart – spindle;
sentient pump,
bones of a comatose river,
it will tell what it may.
Whoever hears it
will unhinge their hands like a gateway,
prop you on their tongue
like butterscotch
like all throats are a lament
of an ocean’s feverish rage;
you will be taught
which and what cannot be green,
what can’t be red;
what to say, who can be held
and you will watch
how what most call touch
is thistle.

~ by Oloriel on June 18, 2019.

5 Responses to “Smoking Cigarettes after Noon”

  1. Oh! This is so so good. In awe of this line: “like all throats are a lament/of an ocean’s feverish rage”.

  2. You have a wonderful way with words!

Tell me something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

 
Amethyst Review

New Writing Engaging with the Sacred

Anatolios Magazine

[ love letters to the light ]

Countdown To Classic

A World of Warcraft: Classic Podcast & Community

The Wedding of Ken and Sarah

Coming to you August 17th, 2019 via the Wonders of the Internet!

Robert Hilles

Poet and Novelist

Bruised Rose Blossoms

Poet. Starscraper. Song whisperer. Niño de las estrellas.

Pointless Overthinking

Understanding ourselves and the world we live in.

MMPortfolio

Portfolio

Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

Clandestine tales cling to these forlorn ankles.

A Reading Writer

I write because I read. I read because I write.

The Bullet <3 Winston Smith

Music to burn Rome to

Ink the Lavender Skies

A place for the poetic explosions from my mind.

Rambling 'Riter

Musings of an Aspiring Poet

Serpent Box

A Journey We Take Together

like mercury colliding...

...moments of unexpected clarity

non sequitur

acjc's writers

%d bloggers like this: