Friday, May 13, 2016

Theresa A. Cancro- Two Poems

What the Numbed May Inherit

fierce butterfly grips
ratchet up the silent scream
of unhatched visions
clipped out of ragged
magazines, slick glamour

girls dripped in seamed
silk stockings, aflutter against
the flypaper of lost time,
lifted off pregnant grace
permitted by philosophers,

all still observing nano-
seconds of griffin nails
skittering across contrails
left in the sky by skipping
jet-setter types avoiding

altercations at the gates
of hell where they are loathe
to tarry, even though they
know how close to the edge
they teeter in their stilettos,

leather, and bling, with moxie and flack.

At Low Tide

Soft sounds pull
me under, under,
up to the lapis
rills pressed to lips
as I sink into

the abyss. What mermaids'
purses gather splits
crass light through
low bellies, never
sordid, always virginal.

I see him from
the corner of my eye,
as I plunge
into deep surf,
life-edge, tripped,

cut through the ego
sheath. One last clash
against rocks, to take
all breath, no more bubbles.
The gull's wail parses my ear.

Bio:  Theresa A. Cancro writes poetry, fiction and nonfiction. Many of her poems and flash fiction pieces have been published internationally in online and print journals, including Jellyfish Whispers, Pyrokinection, The Artistic Muse, Modern Haiku, Haibun Today, Chrysanthemum, A Hundred Gourds, The Heron's Nest, and Presence, among others.

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