“Woman Atop the Mountain”

woman-atop-the-mountain

“Woman Atop the Mountain” by Clare L. Martin
Pen and crayon on paper. Digitized, filtered. 2016.

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War Footing

 

 

 

War Footing
 

Blue and rain-days long.
The leaking roof. Rats in the attic.
We are sodden, shuttered;
motionless in our apathy.
How do we become more than we are?
There is no palpable answer.
Only wind will tell us, in finality.
Now, we smoke cigarettes,
eat crumbs gathered
in the bottom of plastic bags,
scrape our palms for coins.
I have fallen in the trap of my eyes again.
It is winter and we fail in all our doings.
Dark mornings, we turn cold,
stepping onto the floor.
Naked into the bath.
Hot water to bring us from death.
Always evoked of our tears—mad
laughter as we rail at our leaders,
who only speak a barrage of sick
glory-obsessions. Bombs drop by ten o’clock.
We live radiated, aglow with grief.
We are on a war footing.
Every moment escalates.
I have taken your face out of memory.
I have replaced you
with a mushroom cloud, for solace.

 

 

 

 

©2016 Clare L. Martin

Obsessed with memories…

descent

 

autumn afternoon
glass room led
zeppelin that room
led zeppelin his kiss
love making my jeans
no braces hazel eyes
so many years
youth love years
melting away sunlight
glass love music
guitars love glass
kisses love glass
melting years love
melting music melting
glass sun glass
sex melting music
sun melting glass
sex music sex
glass never ending
love my lust
never died
my breath still
gasping now
coming now
coming
that memory

now

passion
my love
lust
my sacred body
woman
body
hot tears
my love-lust
my heart

ache
bondage
my eternal bondage
promises
etched in dust
a vow, a lock
rusted chains
grit, cut flesh
gritty metal
shards of my lust

his touch erased me
god help me
his touch erased me
his touch erased me

I was never protected
I was never stood up for
god help me

what is left to cherish?

his touch erased me
I was never protected
I was never stood up for

god help me

 

©2016 Clare L. Martin