L'Afrique

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Bone marrow transplant au Paris

Brutalized eyes in a skull

A husk of image

In an empty skin

Thin.Thin.

Skin as tight as light

As shadows flickering

On a man with eyes like vipers.

Solemn, slow, the tusk begins to grow

From blood and bone.

Limousines shudder

Yams decompose

Draining the body fluid

Into the sewer beneath.

Tke-tke

The analysand

Above castle stone - in Normandy or Picardy -

Thunder rushes to the hills beyond.

Too like you to stand these waves,

Topographically, a Slave State;

Yet, slivers of the skin remain

Under thumb nails - locked in splintered wood.

Falling, we hear the drums,

Beyond any horizon,

Out of step, and falling. 

 

◄ ACTOR

City of the Bee: 22 May 2017, 9:31 pm ►

Comments

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Mae Foreman

Fri 22nd Mar 2019 10:43

I love it John and not just for the first line, it's exquisit poetry everything that comes out of your pen. That needed to be said ?

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John Marks

Thu 21st Mar 2019 22:10

You understand it very well Mae. John

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Mae Foreman

Thu 21st Mar 2019 21:15

And then, funny thing, I read it again and just a glimpse of the first line is enough! I now get it 100%!
Thank you again?
Mae

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Mae Foreman

Thu 21st Mar 2019 21:10

I'd like to understand this beautifully laid, enticing poem better but my poor puny brain isn't helping at all! Still from just a hunch my heart knows I absolutely love it!
Thank you ?
Mae

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