Blonde blackness leaned out the favorite window. Dusk-filled
harmony and paralleled empty passed in front of her face. Pushing
a dark strand from expression, she lay a faded end against the
cold likeness. Fixed glimpses onto a turning season, retreating
into this.
And when he opened the fifth, I saw under the altar the souls
of those who had been slain for the word, and for the witness
that they
bore.
She asks.
Which truth lifted to speak away from Is a question swelling
beside blood lips to crave
12 Shades of perfect filled her mouth. The warmth closer now,
she runs her fingers through thickening coming air. Overstay
a dark resolve growing with a reflection. Sides raised in a promise,
the high white edges a line around her eyes. Lessening from the
hip, she besides her sight. Aside to speak, moving the words
inside pages silent to remain, the sight of a mouthful simple
mumbles falls against her throat.
And having turned, I saw seven golden lamp-
stands; and in the midst of the seven
lamp-stands One like to a son of a man,
clothed with a garment reaching
to the ankles.
She listens.
Shall you press deaf hands to what was asked with a
name
Passing towards her hands parted, creative outside comes
against a waited sound. Lifting a cheek to the opened reflection,
with her pale sleeve she wipes the time from her forehead. She clouds the portrait and again presses her hand
against it. Leaving a scrape beside.
Behold, he comes with the clouds, and
every eye shall see him, and they
also who pierced him.
She remembers.
Will you look away in time from a reflection Is
there a way to feel it for the first
Marking the surface with her fingernail, she draws a line down
the center of the faded blue. Injured with weight of the upon,
a temperate golden glow of the stumbling emotion. She watched
as the front grass knifed images of driven reverence into the
skin of her leg. A jeweled scar runs across the inside of her
thigh. Deeply pulling forward, only to twice drain the beads
of garnet lining her wrist. The desperate stone pushed against
the sill as she recites the importance.
But his head and his hair were white, and his eyes were
as a flame of fire; his feet were like fine brass, as in a
glowing furnace, and his voice
like the voice of many waters.
She repeats.
I do just, what knows a touch Do you place
nearly suffocating to
please the mouths that be
A reason drawn, feeling the stares of the buried glass. Their
heads were lowered away from. Turning their hands cold with
the scent of the clear water. Yes, they refused. Ran tongues
around the outside of opened consumption. Lowered themselves upon
the hands of carrion, letting dead fingers search deep
inside. only to find. Only to find.
And he had in his right hand seven stars. And out of
his mouth came forth a sharp two-edged sword; and
his countenance was like the sun
shining in its power.
She knows.
How long has it been since Is this a lie too
valued to remember Will you use it
And a great sign appeared in: a woman clothed
with the sun, and the moon was under her
feet, and upon her head was
a crown of twelve stars. And being with
child, she cried out in her travail and
was in the anguish of delivery.
Dropping to scarred questions, asking a torment. Scratches
at her face, fingernails filled with flesh and a colour
peering downward. Forward against.
She watches.
Has it been too long Is there an outside to
your wisdom
Again to the glass.
Forehead bruised with unbroken reply. The punished season
moving inside. She comes against the watching surface
heavy with her marked hands. A sense thicking
the perfume in her face. Keeping head down, eyes up, she stretches
her fingers backwards and behind, curving the light in
between them.
Ask. Forward. Again to the glass. In front of the wailing
wall staring at heaven through the frost bitten stained
with her crimson. Ask. Forward. Tearing at
the scars with filled fingernails, pulling against the covered wounds.
She fell.
Muttering.
And when he opened the seventh seal, there
was silence.
Again against the glass.
[END]
© 2003 Viriginia Kennedy
