Sunday, October 14, 2012

Distillation, The Third

Self-portrait, Nevine Sultan

Click to read the first and second “Distillation” poems.

* * * * * * * * *

What was it that made you weep,
My Ghost?

My absences were long.
Your eyes were stone.
We were grasping
for elusive lines.

You said,
I am the arrow that struck you
in the heart.
I am the lovemarks that painted
your wrists.

I said,
I am the agitated membrane that,
when split, liberated your defenses,
disarming the chaos inside you.

But I am also your blank page,
My Ghost.

Your truths are inked,
your secrets grafted,
inside my bones.
I see my history
in your eyes.

Why do we spar so?

I said,
I told you truths.

You said,
For honesty’s sake,
I told you lies.

You, My Ghost?

You said,
You made me smile
like no other could.

I said,
You made me cry.

You said,
Forgive me.

And I spread my ribs and
bared the gaping lips of
this wounded vessel.

And leaning into you, I said,
I do not negotiate forgiveness,
My Ghost.
Now, how’s that for honesty?