Sculptress
Those palms in lines of lives have shaped histories
on misty coastlines imagining knights in sand castles
caressing the hair of a made-up Rapunzel
she eyed another’s Play-Doh multicolored worlds.
She once soothed the bruise of a fallen wish
warming the flesh then icy with the marble stone
her aching breast shuttered by a faint quake
gently swallowing the pain of a broken oath.
Crossing her arms at a life not quite hers
she stood in the corner of a palace made for a stranger
holding tight onto the bones just to be certain
life had not yet abandoned the future she sketched.
I remember the cups of her hands, when holding the mango
she smiled as it metamorphosed to peach apple cherry
her laughter echoed in rich colors of golden red passion
floating in the glowing body, a divine aura.
He would have given treasures he did not possess
for the ephemeral touch of the joy she nourished so
to lay in the icy rock but for one second more
to feel the ions of her soul so sublime warm his dying shell.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.
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