blake-quietly

[blake-quietly]

Eurydice and Escape

Flickering and quick -

Like the briefest of lives.

The love passes.

A breath caught in my throat,

Baited and poised to escape,

Before a sigh that never comes.

There is a beauty in the impossibile.

That fleeting moment when I see him,

And behold our world,

quaking before it’s end.

A dead thing,

Edges seared,

Center raw.

I ache beneath my skin,

Where hope once bloomed.

For four walls painted,

Bright with laughter.

Now they’re thorns entwined,

In soil that will never warm.

We seek each other,

Blind and starving.

Words simply dust in the air,

Too thick to breathe,

Too sharp to swallow.

In that muted quiet,

I watch him turn in my grave.

Away from daylight and his promises.

His eyes now hollow,

Once so sure of our escape.

That freedom we know,

But will cease to touch me.

Nothing but smoke,

He turns to me -

For a second.

I remain alone,

burning.

[blake-quietly]

I am a dreamer

And one day the world will be a dream.

[blake-quietly]

Just because I was ruined doesn’t mean I can’t be recycled

[blake-quietly]

Hell

If our earth is hell,

I will bask in its warmth.

In the seconds before I burn.

[blake-quietly]

Orpheus

By Evonne Blake

For a second,

A breath hooked and baited before a sigh,

There was a beauty in his impossible task.

Each saw the other,

And beheld a world before ending.

Turning in her grave,

Away from the world’s daylight,

To face and stare to a shared center.

Death loaned an artist a snowy life,

Captured in the mist on their eyes.

So many face a lover in life,

Vowing death as their soul parting.

But he turned to her and reveled,

For a second.

[blake-quietly]

Emails, notes and secrets from the Sky

By Evonne Blake

Dear Canary,

My World’s Round cheeked thing of fumbled nouns.

A lover’s child so bright chested and then a younger baring,

when lives were longer and screaming smiley truth.

A cloistered creature Intoning arrows set to wounding an atmosphere

Who is helpless but to love each then lose all.

Your Sky x

Hi Mankind,

A precursors hands are always best dusted with a day dark love.

Ever Ready with a sleepless grin as though painted,

My shadow pitch canvas adorned by your freckled light.

A patchwork fan - eternaly at mending and Blending,

Stormy days with balmy juncture.

From Sky (opened)

Dear Canary and Man,

Time mines each annual wax light,

And sets to Drifting all unworldly aspiration.

To take you all searching closer to a center.

I Watch who flies and who falls.

- Your mutual Sky

[blake-quietly]

“Bitch” (a street served discussion)

“bitch” is shoulder tossed with all ease on city cobbles

A canine word thrown to the wind like caution often is.

The junior knave’s not-so-custom decree then charge,

Like an singular invention of fire - while seeing smoke.

“Bitch!” Is snarled through bus station glass,

Borne of animated seething just outside the flats.

Exclamative then a favored force with meddling venom.

The Leash led, hand held at a Muzzle biting,

baiting and biding with red coined Assignation.

No licking at the hoop skirt housed wound to soothe,

Much less at the imitation stitches.

“Hey, Don’t be such a stuck up bit-” is spat,

Arching across a tarmac river to a root engrossed thing,

Neither Whistling, Pulling or panting.

Wearing a mug’s stamp absolves a ‘darling’.

To be Hick Necked or silver pledged is liminal safety,

From a street walking man.

“You bitch!” Is howled in friendly confidence.

Raucous laughter for a name always used to bruise.

Word messed chests in less distress from this gendered censure,

A few streetlights changed, but many the same.

Though Mark-less I should pad quickly,

Grey and primary vultures roam.

Flouresant darkness beacons uncanny mankind brighter,

All will call bitch while it’s dark.

- Evonne Blake

[blake-quietly]

Amazon and God

Mothering light smiles,

A bit to bright and wide.

Up from a tablet clasped like her favorite book.

From wax - to colored glass and miracles,

Never mirrors.

Text and title divinely uniform,

Neat lines of subservient arches.

Characters behaving,

Bold and italics modern heralds.

Body and blood for 14.95,

Without delivery.

They will sell a God,

And teeth will bare like necks.

But if I burn a candle not made by man,

Does he still love the flames?

- Evonne Blake

[blake-quietly]

[blake-quietly]

Eve of my birthday. Spent the evening at my shitty waitressing job and took this on the way home, it was the best thing that happed during my birthday. At least I had something pretty in the end.

[blake-quietly]

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