Edjo Frank
She Malibare feet in the sand
toes point to the sky blood stains on the cotton dress folded as a flag over the body silence between the sand dunes except for the high screams of desert vultures exercising patience men with arms heads covered with cloth their lethal visit betrayed by the silent witness of tire tracks layers of clotted salt cover valleys where once slots intersected her face tears dried long ago when spirits flew on a high wind promised never to come back she folds her hands muttering words only the mullah understands wind pulling at her hair as a tug trying to free the wreck battered against the rocks in vain what has been taken will not be given what was most precious deprived of soul leaving behind the senseless legacy of elusive religion in a confused world of thoughts called mankind FailureI touch her lily skin
she feels cold, I feel rejected sweat beads on my arms no final words are said leaving helplessness behind no sound, no movement bedroom frozen in sunbeams my eyes rest on the field bouquet showing shameless beauty instead of dreadful mourning a snakelike flower smiles I tear the white petals the nakedness of her yellow heart looks at me, bewildered in the palm of my hand horror screams escape my breast drift silently on the wind to shores I know of former times where innocence saturates the soul and love knows no restraints I take my coat, I close the door fists clenched in pockets deep emphasize the failure of a row the body has a way ahead the mind ceased long ago Farewellthe imprint of your face
etched in a pebble of my mind and the last light left the blue of your eyes in my empty hands at the end of summer
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Book, slipper, cathumbly for wind and god
time crumples the book chagrin chases forgotten words of no name or yesterday you put off your reading glasses there is nothing to be understood of a hooked story of dark after dusk of howling from the airshaft of draft that makes your legs freeze shudder taunts himself up fills the cavities of your skull nests in the deep holes of an uprooted memory saliva dripping little strings on the veins of your hand your trembling hand opens by a spasm the book falls your slipper kicks the cat looks disapprovingly or is this just imagination When our eyes metyesterday
when our eyes met we remembered things happening long ago that shaped our lives and we knew we share stories from the beginning of times when seeds were planted to become who we are and dream of what may be
Smilethe rain waves goodbye
in the chill of early morning a narrow strip of light stands out against eastern horizon I smile footpath in the swamp marriage between gravel and mud nettles to hide the curves snakeweed lures me to the waters I smile white sheep sail a blue sky the wind holds her breath at the far end of the field the gundogs rush a grouse I smile nature’s heart counts time and space unchallengeable its creation to feel and touch the pulse of life embrace my loneliness I smile Widower
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