Sunday, December 16, 2012

Two Poems by Chris Crittenden

Not There
noon found her frozen
in the snakes
of her own veins.
she had married her own medusa,
the fatal event.
to look inside
and turn to shocked stone,
could any pain
squeeze worse?
to shown in eyes
a wound so bright
that blood relinquished fire?
to go down, to seek
a twin in a steep pool,
unaware she is dead
until she kisses you.

in the twilight
people kept shriveling.
kissing wraiths.
what was real
began to hide in wounds less
than scum, entire worlds
crowded into ether
smaller than invisible,
less tangible than deja vu.
no ear saw,
chins couldn’t focus,
image outpaced tongue.
holes yawned
for faces soon childish
in the rabbit twists.
such ample blurs
of half-pleasant tunnels.
it was easy to
succumb and
jab the needle,
drone the ride.
Chris Crittenden writes from a spruce forest, fifty miles from the nearest traffic light. His full-length collection, Jugularity, was recently released from Stonesthrow.

1 comment:

  1. These are some of my saddest poems, and I am currently full of sadness from the latest school shooting.