School Playground circa 1999 - essa may ranapiri
Palms rub raw on monkey bars
Gripping tightly
Never letting go
Letting
Go
Contortions in the air
A circus performer
Holding on to emptiness
As the weight of a young body
Swings
Momentum carrying him upwards
Splay in all directions
Toes stretch
Wind rush between each tiny gap
Lurching
The heart careens
Into the throat
Before being forced back down with the rest of him
The ground greets his form with a soft crunch
Swimming
With zero motion
In an ocean of bark
Negative One of One - essa may ranapiri
Cold aerial framed by cloud breaking light. Standing on roof tile, a scarecrow perched on a ledge. Below, a silver Nissan remembers to be patient. But it is hard to resist the temptation of tarmac. The houses do not share this feeling. They spend much of their time playing family. The black paths have no love for tyre marks. My eyes are not for driving down these roads that pass quiet neighbourhoods in a monochrome existence of cars and aerials.
This greyscale cage was only made for
one
A form
Maya could never touch
Cocaine white skin
Framed
by black folds
Snorted
through fingertips
(The high never wore off)
A per-
fect canvas of stark contrast
Black
white
grey
Touched
by a haunting smile
That leaves the eyes
half closed
the teeth like
pearl gravestones
Worst of all the crease between a
feline nose
And a soft lip
I can still taste the
Wet
And remember the words
“It’s my job to make your life difficult”
But the photograph is not
her
The plastic foil doesn’t feel like her at all
It misses
everything:
The ever so slight bunching of flesh
Above her hips
Her stately posture so frequently impaired
By a laugh like trickling water
Black tresses soft as silk
Falling into my eyes
Over her shoulders
Butterfly wings brush her wrist
And the rhythm of her voice
The tinkle of a glockenspiel
Are all replaced
by
Cars & Aerials
Contributor's Note
A person who lives halfway between reality and a dream. Has a world of words to share. Studies English and History. Will be finished soon.