Monday 1 February 2021

Two Poems by Marie C Lecrivain

 




The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter -- often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter -- in the eye. - Charlotte Bronte


thursday morning

 

rebirth yourself

on my living room floor

foetal gestures

shed origins of sin

not made on your behalf

 

you've found the muse

behind the succubus

 

the siren

in the muse

 

your passivity unnerves me

as clumsy hands sweep aside

your tattered caul

of lyric and poetry

and you shiver

stripped

tired

and with one evocative question

 

what

happens

now

 


Mare Australe

 

This is where I come

when I don’t want

to remember who you are,

or what you did to me.

 

This is where I find

the cold heart that exists

beneath your alabaster flesh,

the precise icy wind that

evokes your magic touch

and awakens priapic intent.

 

And here is where I slumber

when the madness threatens

to engulf me, the calmness

of your cool arms

grants me the only peace

I’ve ever known.

 

© 2021 marie c lecrivain

 



Marie C Lecrivain is a poet, publisher, and ordained priestess in the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, the ecclesiastical arm of Ordo Templi Orientis. Her work has been published in California Quarterly, Chiron Review, Gargoyle, Nonbinary Review, Orbis, Pirene's Fountain, and many other journals. She's the author of several books of poetry and fiction, and recent editor of Gondal Heights: A Bronte Tribute Anthology (copyright 2019 Sybaritic Press, www.sybpress.com).

 

 

 

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