[…] she was standing there,
pouting childishly at the words
aligned in front of her
like some tiny little soldiers
(you know – those plastic figurines
frozen in all sort of battle positions…)
and she was trying to make them fit
in the cherry-flavored muffin patty pan
that she was holding.

to no avail though…

she kept lashing those poor meanings
to force them into pattern –
“bad, bad, bad haiku!” –
as if they were a pet
and she – their owner.

but she wasn’t able to see
the harmonics of words
spreading all over the place,
resonating in octaves,
and fifths, and fourths,
and fixing their roots
into the very marrow of god.

words pitied her and her blindness,
and after a while they tried to kiss her fingertips,
hoping to open her
to the infinity beyond her walls.

one word even sat on her shoulder,
caressing her cheek with a dove-ish touch
but all that it encountered
was ice.

eventually, words gave up their hope,
and they cut their limbs
and shoved themselves into the form,

she smiled to the small poem in front of her
“there, i did it!!”

but in the same second
her smile vanished,
because the poem, now made of limbless words,
was dead…[…]


from “The hidden well”, audio version here

– Liliana Negoi

© 2015, poem, Liliana Negoi, All rights reserved

3 thoughts on “bladed

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