Bird Falling (Poetry, Michael Paul Ladanyi)
sophia feels the need to cry,
watching crows gather like horse-rain,
liquid under telephone lines.
she needs their witchcraft--
they have her curtain-drawn face,
she sees the rest of her life
in their split-pressure mouths.
sophia remembers being burned at 9,
staring like water stones
at yellow sun; how her arm
was almost beautiful before the pain,
as bone-cored birds falling,
gray sculptures singing with dead eyes.
a zebra-coal sky is listening
like a hostage for god,
is tangled fish in tar,
rubber-trembled,
long, scream-dark music.
sophia burns quiet like perfumed thighs,
one coma hand tracing her face,
chasing chatter-asthma
ghosts through brown hair.
(First published in Ash Canyon Review, July 2005. Later published in Other Voices International Poetry Project, Nov. 2005. Soon to be published in my upcoming chapbook co-written with C. E. Laine, which remains untitled at this time. Copyright (C) 2006 Michael Paul Ladanyi.)
watching crows gather like horse-rain,
liquid under telephone lines.
she needs their witchcraft--
they have her curtain-drawn face,
she sees the rest of her life
in their split-pressure mouths.
sophia remembers being burned at 9,
staring like water stones
at yellow sun; how her arm
was almost beautiful before the pain,
as bone-cored birds falling,
gray sculptures singing with dead eyes.
a zebra-coal sky is listening
like a hostage for god,
is tangled fish in tar,
rubber-trembled,
long, scream-dark music.
sophia burns quiet like perfumed thighs,
one coma hand tracing her face,
chasing chatter-asthma
ghosts through brown hair.
(First published in Ash Canyon Review, July 2005. Later published in Other Voices International Poetry Project, Nov. 2005. Soon to be published in my upcoming chapbook co-written with C. E. Laine, which remains untitled at this time. Copyright (C) 2006 Michael Paul Ladanyi.)
posted by Michael Paul Ladanyi | Tuesday, April 11, 2006
4 Comments:
There are too many good phrases here to merely highlight a few. Breathtakingly stylized write as always, Michael, in your own inimitable style.
There's no quick theft of meaning reading your poetry!! The images are vibrantly alive in dark tones, that left me sad for a 9 year old with a "curtain-drawn face". Excellent piece!
Thank you, Aurora. A appreciate the kind words.
M~
Thanks, Pat. I appreciate your read of this piece.
M~
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