sometimes i see medusa
wearing my face,
with my dreams dangling
like an ominous crown of complex and
cunning serpents.
the horizon,
dormant
and riddled with salt-sculptured icons,
is emblazoned with the history
of mega-apocalypse.
sometimes i see a chained prometheus,
wildly waving a strangled eagle,
delicately
taunting the gods.
his mountainside looms
in the northernmost regions
of my mind.
sometimes i see the ferryman,
but he is a cautious one,
wary of the stowaway.
sneering harpies flank his approach.
sometimes i see bosch,
painting infinite murals
in unison
with my narratives
wrought with melancholy.
sometimes i see dante,
and hand-in-hand i guide him,
walking barefoot through hell,
the devil’s winds whistling our bones.
hell is a time in a place in my mind.
yet in a suddenly shimmering distance,
Jonah brushes himself off,
liberated at the edge of the
foul and festering morass.
he prayed himself out of a whale
of trouble.
i sense new direction
and plan my escape.
2 Comments
Loved reading this.
Thanks Nicole.