No Cry But a Quicksand

I threw myself down

buried my head

in a caseless pillow

A primordial ooze

melted down my cheek

in death    procession    pace

my face gorged in mascara molasses

crawling too slowly

down my arm

no cry but a quicksand

of gooshing

melodramatics

The Good Angel shouldered a smirk betting the devil
which drop would win.

© 2010 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

joycemason.com

Author's Note: No Cry but a Quicksand  is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which also include Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and The Glass Blower and the Goat.

The Glassblower and the Goat

Watch the glasssblower

spin my sanity thin.

See my knees go weak.

Strange, that man

works on my head

in daytime nightmares

of panic mirage.

Thus cut, now tinkling

in air-conditioned breeze

my Chinese windchimes

balance

trembles in fragile fear

of a goat to come

rushing in

crushing

no tin-can in his terror teeth

comes bucking

shattering

masticating   (glass)    me.

© 2010 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com

Photo Credit: Forming the Glass © Ahmet Ihsan Ariturk Dreamstime.com


Author's Note: The Glass Blower and the Goat is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which begin with Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and end with No Cry but a Quicksand.