April Mae Berza

APRIL MAE BERZA


Like rings around Saturn

Like rings around Saturn
my love will encircle her;
not knowing she is the planet
she stays away from me.

Her prison sky locks her
away from my reach, away from me,
she cannot seem to know them,
cannot seem to find her moons.

When the time is right, she will know
Saturn is more than the universe
for she is held by my power
with the ring I have bestowed upon her.


News watching

Watching the news is like jogging every morning
Every day as I wake up to take my coffee,
I grew tired for whatever it has to bring.

The remote control I used to fight with my sibling
The same remote control dictating me to see,
Watching the news is like jogging every morning.

Different channels are different paths for running
I jog all day only to end up not in harmony
I grew tired for whatever it has to bring.

Boredom spreads its full-pledged wing
And soar high as I continue to watch the TV,
Watching the news is like jogging every morning

The same news, the same people, the same setting,
The only difference is that I get exhausted and hungry
I grew tired for whatever it has to bring.

Entertainment is not always there to cling
To my brain for it is a very long journey,
Watching the news is like jogging every morning
I grew tired for whatever it has to bring.


Blue

The womb of the words could not give birth to this longing
Let me caress your shadow now that I’m missing you.

Shades of blue devour my heart as I awake this morning
Now that you are gone, I am left alone, missing you.

I hate those giant curtains covering the windows
It makes me want to wipe the tears with it, missing you.

The cold coffee, the cold bread, the cold butter,
I ask that you remain for a second because I’m missing you.

I could not discover another word for grief, my darling,
The syntax of time calls for a hiatus, missing you.

The chirping clock forgets its duty today, only today
I wander into the kingdom of dreams, missing you.

Sorrow penetrates into my left ventricle for so long,
Piercing my caged heart into its coldness, missing you.

My flowers forget to remind me to water them,
Staring the whole day into the ceiling, missing you.

This Mojave desert thirst could be quenched by your presence
Be an oasis with me as soon as possible now that I’m missing you.

Pain drives me mad I begin to let go and dance and sing,
Sorrow is insulin to your diabetic kiss, missing you.


Canvas

your back is a blank canvas
where my skillful hands paint with
desire, bathing the nude canvas with
oil as my hands feel the
smoothness of your back like a
nightsky with a constellation of
moles

I inhale the scent of grief as I
color the canvas with the tint of
tears

painting your back follows a pattern,
burying the alphabet is an
art, lost until love found
reason

pressing, pressing my fingers
against the virgin canvas, I stroke
with my gentle hand, brushing your
back back and forth, I mix
my salty tears with oil as
I imprint my signature on your
back


Hands

(After Glen Sorestad’s When Hands Sleep, what do they dream?)

His hands dream the calisthenics of metals of an automobile,
while hers dream of cooking her thoughts, her passion;

his hands dream juggling numbers, a jumbled telephone,
while her hands dream of imprisoned letters finally freed;

his hands dream a marriage of spoon and fork
as he moves brown rice to his innocent mouth,

while hers dream the bipolar bond of nude fingers
in the canvas plate painting her hunger, her hunger;

his hands dream how the soldier fingers camp the softness
of her breast, her nipple, a caged nightingale,

her hands dream the aggressive texture of his buttocks
as he enters, her finger’s surrender to his hips.

Sometimes his hands and her hands stop dreaming
but lie restless like defeated warriors lost

in the subconscious of hand against hand in combat.
Sometimes hands sleep in the awakening of desire.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s