She At The Banks Of Istros~

~a ReCreation Myth For The Future~

A woman made of chalk

adorned in the voluptuous leaves of a bird of paradise

gazed at her reflection in the soft blue current of the river

her fingertips drawing sorcerous eddies in spirals on the surface

whispering starlight between mulberry lips stained with life

chanting a circular eulogy disturbing the integral composition of molecules

dripping

through water

to shape scales

and eyes

a slap of fin

 

Behind a rock

girl with prismatic irises watched the world bend out of shape

wary

curious

as all girls with solid incarnations redone in blues are wont to do

bore witness to the koi assemble out of enchantment

caught her breath

watching woman strip the leaves from her spine and hips

unsheathing a writhing dream from the silver cartilage fused to the bone of her thigh

 

“What is it woman?” asked old Man Koi

bobbing unhappily at shore line

“What isn’t?” woman smiled

“Impossible from the day you were conceived, bah!” old Man Koi shook his red and honey scales

“I am done, old Man Koi. You will be my witness.”

woman laid her white reed forearms across the currents

whispered the breeze into a scythe to flay the skin open to the bone

“What the hell??!!” old Man Koi popped his emerald eyes

woman laughed, said softly

“Watch.”

 

Girl behind ochre rock

drew in deep river breath

violet skirts bunched in shaking little fists

wild fox eyes

wild peacock plumes in her yellow hair

she  ran

for the Crone

 

Old Man Koi pouted marble water bubbles

“You can’t leave me here.” He insisted

woman said shhhhhhhh

and gave the yellow prisms of her green beryl eyes to pierce atoms

to rewind molecular structures into dragonflies

which dove deep into the skin and muscles

and sinews of her forearms

snipping strips of stained glass DNA

“Woman,” old Man Koi sighed, “must you always be so graphic.”

“Yes.” Woman smiled

 

Girl

decorated in pearl streaks of sweat

dashed herself against the briar

through

into a clearing elsewhere

where Crone leaned against a fountain made of dragon scales

dark skirts whispering around her willow frame

the palms of her ancient hands

pressed against the sides of stone curves

“Woman is bleeding herself into the river!”

girl clutched at Crone’s arms

“Yes.” Crone said, “So I see.”

girl followed the gaze of Crone’s ink blue eyes across the alloy waters

reflecting woman through pandimensional folds

“She will collapse the tides, she will collide the worlds.”

“That is what she was made for, Girl.  That is why she is the Oracle.”

 

Woman’s blood trailed down the river

dragonflies disassembled her arms to the bones

tattooed butterflies tore themselves from her skin

cherry blossoms in ink fell from her pores around her feet

old Man Koi slapped his vermillion tail against the waters

asking

“How will you justify this to him?”

“I won’t.” she smiled

whispered instructions to dragonflies

kissed each with ruby lips

watched them ascend the sky

her cells a imprint in scales against sheer wings

“They will drop the gifts where they will.”

 

Crone took girl’s hand

“It’s that time?” girl’s voice wept like a violin solo

“It’s always been that time.”

a sigh

two bodies through alloy waters

mercury filling their lungs

drowning

 

Woman felt girl convulse between her ribs

 the sharp blade of Crone’s soul penetrate behind her third eye

her broken arms offered no support

she fell into the current

old Man Koi at her side

bleeding down the river

afloat on her back

the channels leaking through her pores

her fingertips suddenly still on a displaced keyboard

uncertain where the letters should be

silence

for the first time in decades

the waterfall embraced her

old Man Koi bore witness

from a pond in the shade of a bird of paradise

watching his woman exhale a thousand amniotic souls into the branches of a pine

watching his woman

take her

very first breath

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa.inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

excerpt from . . . .

 

 

 

Reviews

[Lachenille Papillion]

I cannot touch the beauty of these words with my own... Selene, you have written yourself into a poetic category all your own with your style of Surreal reality, soul, physical emotion, myth and the all too real moments of a life....

I will leave it at this, that I see how long the journey has been, and if ever a woman was entitled to breathe.........

hugs as I head out the cafe door and you have outside mail

[.:Arianna:.]

yet another fascinating work of art!

[Bard Constantine]

You...

[Pax Analog]

A dizzying, coruscating creation myth. Rather like mescaline-injecting an already wild indigenous creation tale, intensifying the images and language thereof.

"A woman made of chalk/adorned in the voluptuous leaves of a bird of paradise/gazed at her reflection in the soft blue current of the river/her fingertips drawing sorcerous eddies in spirals on the surface/whispering starlight between mulberry lips stained with life/chanting a circular eulogy disturbing the integral composition of molecules"

This entrancing beginning sets the tone for the marvelous whole.

A wonder-flux inherently psychotropic, amazing.

[My Fair Lady]

I love how you embrace femininity with this piece. What a pleasurable and exciting read, and yet so calming... isn't that how we are.. when all is changing and difficult, we simply have a way about us.. and just when we think that we must face an impossible challange we realize that there are things that we can do in an amazing way.. that is when we simply say... “Watch.”

[Larry Dyson]

As of late the dharma is fore front..at the trinity of feminne form and balance the returning all to to all and rebirth...our blood is our ocean/river ..beautifully written Victoria...assimily and assonance pictures painted vibrantly in phrase.

[Brad]

again, your mythos keeps me enthralled with a sharp tongue jabbed into my cheek

mystical

[Jae]

very beautiful and magikal!!!

~Rem

[Jibey]

Enchanting... caressing the soul

[Maurice]

An entrancing write. It's all magic that you always do.