RAY SUCCRE : The Sealboy
YVONNE MORRIS : "How will we meet in real life?"
MICHAELA A. GABRIEL : femme au miroir
POETRYREPAIRS v12:04:040
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The Sealboy femme au miroir  
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RAY SUCCRE
The Sealboy
The sealboy was dirty from yardplay and dogwrestle— how upset his strict mother was, and just before the Mass. He surfaced in an arch with fresh clothes, pleated pants and a churchy sweater, then dove to the bottom again while tripping into brush. The blackberry had smudged his temple, its cord had slit his cheek. The lick was charring, how his mother hurriedly cleaned him with saliva, streak of black down, on the way to the car, less black, lick, less black— By this cleaning the sealboy winced, but was freshened to her approval, was showable, on his way to his mother's church, a few more years.
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I have many things to write unto you but   I will not write with pen and ink
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The Sealboy femme au miroir  
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YVONNE MORRIS
"How will we meet in real life?"

At a party, someone leans over and asks, "How did you two meet?" And you say,
I traveled through time to tap him on the shoulder to let him know that I was waiting -
and that I didn't want to wait any longer
"That was it?" the someone inquires and you say, no, no, there was much more to it than that -
all the reminders
"Reminders?" someone is polite

Yes, you reply, all the cajoling, coaxing prayers, the early morning pleading
anxious working hours spent wondering instead, the weekends when everyone else,
you were sure, were perfecting their patties on their perfect patios
and you were left with your dry-as-old-bones diary, endless dribbling
journals feeling over all the little dents in the banged up body of your life
until finally, running for cover you found shelter under a canopy, and there, also waiting

with everything dripping wet and green all around, who should you bump into in this pouring rain--
all awkward umbrellas and wrinkled raincoats -
someone you hadn't seen before in this lifetime, but didn't it feel like it was just yesterday... but "wait, wait," someone is repeating, "what does this all mean?"
and you're out of breath, beyond redeeming, and you can only think to reply
that maybe (sometimes) love surrenders meaning, and that, you guess
is how we met
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Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato



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The Sealboy femme au miroir  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ under 18? klik here

MICHAELA A. GABRIEL
femme au miroir
(inspired by miró's "femme au miroir")
she's not vain. she's a genuine household goddess in an audacious dress, admiring cat at her little feet, stars peeking in through spotless glass. the parrot has stopped mocking her: this dress is more colourful than his feathers! she holds her lipstick, poised, she needs bright lips, a mouth to utter an "oh": the mirror is so kind today. it shows no wrinkles, no too-small nose, no average cheekbones, only a red reflection, burning like the setting sun.
POETRYREPAIRS 12.04: 040
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RAY SUCCRE : The Sealboy
YVONNE MORRIS : "How will we meet in real life?"
MICHAELA A. GABRIEL : femme au miroir

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