Exploring a Past
She moved about with the ease of a phantom
in limbo between the world she once knew
the unknown in the cold air of the tomb.
Trying for another smile on the fresh lips
she lingered in the position of comfort
taken by the ecstasy of gentle memories.
A finger sought to discover the new body
she could clearly see the walls of her galaxy
and the stars beyond her perfect home.
To wave hello and hear a voice from beyond
she gathered the little toes and pushed forward
her pleasure so intense in the mirror of things to come.
It was eons ago yet when she too gave birth
in a land so long forgotten by space and time
now she knew the mysteries to soon share.
There would be love and there would be pain
and she rested at ease in the peace of a mother
she had been and longed at last to become again.
Grief
The hour is dark
unknown in this time
when we both cry for a destiny
a friend who walks of the razor’s edge.
It seems today we laughed
within a strange fog as he spoke
and silence engulfed the joyous din.
Flipping through the lines of a message
either stumbling nor shedding a whisper
we saw him take a gentle breath
and shed the truth on a shivery morning.
Not a soul spoke or a voice cried
the realm froze it seems in the warmth
of a common dominical encounter.
Far you ponder the words
to speak aloud and plead
so he may push a little further
spread another smile on forgotten lips.
While he tells us of a strange creature
hungry for the happiness he gives
agape our mouths die a little more.
I know you sob in a private alcove
your face leaning upon weary hands
it may be another time, another world
but both we pray that he will live.
On Dry Land
She swam from coast to coast in agony
exploring the depths of unsung deserts.
Tender in the bones never to surrender
tears ran to feed the thirsts of many despairs.
She screamed her simple hopes to a deaf ether
her flesh gnawed by the teeth of putrefying vultures.
A fierce furnace consummated destinies
conceived in the gaze painted upon lost horizons.
A vast void twisted the secrets she had protected
within a pulsating vault of vermillion cliffs.
Joy was certain to never return to the territory
murdered by the absence of comforting light.
This earth would never shine with the glow
of a glee she had once shared with her universe.
Resting upon the crests of frozen volcano vomit
she was now to become the martyr of a barren valley.
Sidewalks
The image does not always come easily
to the one who seeks a new happiness;
yet it is near, all around, it touches close,
every pore, all morsels of the lone being.
A shadow in the wind, a flower forgotten
on the great sidewalk of so many lives;
a kiss lost for eternity as the moment lapsed
into the early morning fog, the night gone.
But it must be sought after, for it is real;
the substance of the dream, the vision
found in unsounded realms, lives and demands
a one-way ticket to your words.
To the Great Depths
So close to the undulating surface
waves carrying the weights of steel freighters
she ponders the foreboding end of so many destinies.
As if molten lead it moves in the lunar mirror
full of mysterious existences far below
so many deaths without names.
Mimicking the azure of her gaze
it invites the enquiring soul to follow
the path to infinite treasures.
It vanishes beyond the horizon in teal
always offering much and withholding more
its mouth agape in darker shades of green.
Imitating the warm womb of a universal mother
it offers welcoming arms in deep darkness
growling forth a trembling invitation.
They will walk into the surf
prisoners of a seemingly eternal pleasure
fall in the trap of mermaids or their mates.
What indeed are the truths beneath the swell
receptacle of innumerable deaths
buried for centuries by the hand of a dark maiden.
She sits in awe of this awesome vastness
wondering her next move to stay or to depart
and conquer the terror of this deadly womb.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.
Aloka 