Transparency at a touch, a sheer whisper-hue of alkali bleeding through high noon's burn. Metal cool encircles an open throat filling a stomach; filling, filling until full of nothingness dark & airiness light. soil & sky. Родина. Her flesh in a jar. A pirate's promise, soldier, rover. Fixer (mend her), fighter (flight). An offering of absence on this holy day. Remember that hunger, the lesson scraped from bone sucked of marrow. Battle hollowed, hallowed be thy name. Woman, thy name.
@no-sinner-no-saint |
There is doom here; the black hole souls colliding and consuming. ( they are at the mercy of something like gravity. )
SAINT PETERSBURG IS BEAUTIFUL THIS TIME OF YEAR
Victory Day and Mothers’ Day in one, how quaint. Triumph and glory and blood spilled like water in drought. The Russians have their ways. ( bears. crows. permafrost. ) Есть мир, товарищ.
Война окончена. Bittnerness takes its place on her tongue, choking her, her head held high with her crown of flowers. Yellow roses. Acacia blossom. Blue violets. Daffodils. Magenta zinnia. ( there used to be jokes in her crowns; spider flower, viscaria, anemones, marigolds. )
THEY TOUCH THE SCARS ON HER STERNUM AND ASKED WHAT HAPPENED.
Those who ask cannot know; those who do not, know, and run from the beast that she is, a woman walking around with no heart, with hollow bones and holy fire. ( her heart is trapped at sea, stolen, years ago; at first glance, the thief that he is. what use do you have for such a heavy thing, sinner man? iron and salt are plentiful enough where you roam. )
SHE IS LONELY AS A CLOUD; AS A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH
As choking on air as white hot stars as lips that mouth no language but that of God, of the sea, of monsters with ice for blood. What good is a pirate’s oath to a queen. The lesson has been learned; keloid scars, knotted and gnarled of where her heart used to be. All red scars and bitterness. A kiss from her is poison, and she has been hoping for his death since since Istanbul. She is starving, starving, all sinew and lost time.
HOLY LITTLE THING; HOLEY LITTLE THING
Her flesh tells the story of war of pain of sacred fire replacing human want. Freckles; to be kissed by the sun, to be blessed, to be ordained.
COINCIDENCES. Magenta zinnias left on statues; rosemary and rue in bunches, hanging from string like a noose. AN EMPIRE GROWS; КОРОЛЕВА, КОРОЛЕВА. Death would have been too easy, for either of them, poppies crushed underfoot. White feathers on fresh snow, the sea will consume you like it has swallowed everything else. Her heart in a jar still beats, bloody and heavy. More chains on your wrists, пленный. Steer clear of Istanbul, steer clear of memory. She is waiting, she is waiting.
