Title: Mortar and Bone

Author: Ophelia's Fever

Summary: erotic poetry

2016

Feedback: opheliasfever (at) gmail.com

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Mortar and Bone


There are places that frighten me,
And if you knew them, maybe they'd scare you, too.
Monsters in closets, and under the bed,
Spectral visions in body, and in my head.

 
Pieces made of obfuscation, mortar made of shame,
The things that Abel did, to his brother Cain.
These places so deep, long dark hall a'wailing,
I've bricked it all up, Daddy, entombed away.


But muffled I hear them, those old ghosts.
A table laid before me, a feast of secrets:
Genetic apparitions, family incests downloaded,
Ignoble permutations bring warped inheritances.


The masonry cannot hold,
The things that remain unfixed,
No firmament glimmers for
A fate so deviant.


And in dismantlement I find you, Father,
Waiting with a light and some patience,
To lead my white dressing gown. Down.
Pink toe-nailed, barefootedness.


Lift me up, O Papa,
And let me eat the bitterness,
Digesting incongruency,
Metabolizing ecstasy and revelation.


Together we dismantle,
The platitudes of shame,
Mortar does not hold together,
Forever, the ties that bind from pleasure.


In childhood we often shatter,
And a life thereafter afix,
The pieces as mosaic,
Becoming greater than the sum of brokenness.


Daytime does not understand
The mystery of the night.
Daylight people cannot comprehend
What is done in absence of light.


Is the dark therefore wrong,
When the sun goes astray?
Daddy, does my love for you,
Mean something less when
the bright goes away?



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Feedback, criticism, praise, connection here: opheliasfever (at) gmail.com