The Bride: Haunt of Thieves (book two)

The Bride

The Bride

 

All that promised love

The slaughtering of her house perfection

Of its kind

His knowing her this way, exclusion, even language

Only famine, or delirium…newly colored

Then promise was this sheer ravine

That forbade crossing

But by inches

It must be

Toe by toe

 

One moved or died

Still in shocked faces

Icicles, leaves glacéed in water

Sad lips smiling letters

Making by suggestion words

All these, in powdering vines or

Scuds his boots made in the loam and slime

All intimate, all theirs between them

He and the bride he hadn’t known

 

Copyright 2017 Stephanie Foster

 


Congratulations! You’ve found a bonus poem!


Spiritualist's ghostly image purported in photo2014 poem part three Stephanie Foster The Culture Prurience
The Culture: Prurience

 

 

 

Entrée

High-pitched and shrill

Take notice, be alert

Be furtive, surreptitious

Come out of your hiding place

 

Make overtures, besiege, beset, bedevil

You bear a close resemblance

Today’s project

Is your own desire

 

You feel an unreasonable emotion

An unwanted preoccupation

Akin to stealing

You play a traveling game of pursuit

Sidling, confiding private matters

 

This intolerable passion

This disordered invention

This fulfilled wish

You have a political character

An organized policy

The power to sway

You’re inflamed, excited, fear-mongering, obsessed

Talk around, talk about

On the rooftops, in the hallways

Talk it over, talk it out

In the gutters and the alleyways

Eye-popping, nodding, hand-waving, humiliating

Slippery, oily, through side-doors and back-doors

Silence and darkness

Clutching

Unyielding, unapologetic, intractable

 

You’re a victim

The unfair scrutiny

The world’s cruelty

The life blood

The backbone

The veins and arteries

The fortress stones

The den of righteousness

The good people

 

Copyright 2014 Stephanie Foster

 

 

 

 

2 Comments

  1. Well written piece. 😎

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