Breaking Commandments: Part 1

The blood inches its way down slowly, slowly until it reaches your lips.  You’ve never tasted your own; it’s tart, cold, unfriendly.  Your dumbfounded expression creates your pause.  You stand shoulder width apart, shoulders back, head down letting your red body ink drip from your face.  A stronger masculinity has never been seen, more danger in one being has never been contained and yet you have been struck; weakened by my small form with one heavy swing.  You smear the blood from your face with the back of your hand and search the room, but I am gone.

I took your pause as my getaway and started down the hardwood stairs.  I freeze at the first landing to listen for your approach.  I drape myself over the rail to catch my breath, but am quickly reminded of my pulsing intruder.  Five inches into my abdomen are the serrated edges of our wedding kitchen cutlery, which laughs in mockery at where my smooth, tan flesh once lied.  In this moment I can’t help but think how smart I was for choosing mahogany; at least these bloodstains won’t appear as apparent as if we had gone with the oak floors.

Your anger unleashes as I hear you scream.  Heavy footprints are closing in and I am in no hiding place.  Across the dining room I stumble and into the foyer.  I reach for the keys but a hesitation tells me I won’t make it to the car.  Whose idea was this rural living crap?  The safety of a neighbors yard is a distant dream, but the flickering street lamps might give me time to take cover.  I sprint across the green grass holding my stomach and gritting my teeth.  I dive into the warm air of our wheat field.

For a moment, I forget my pain and lay my back against the soft soil.  The spiders and rodents that once haunted me in this field are little to fear tonight.  The sky is cloudless and bright like the polka dots on my dress, so I search the stars for Andromeda.  She stares down at me with a sympathetic gaze; both chained for so long, both itching for our freedom—tonight we are soul sisters.  I feel her on my side and my fear begins to disapparate.

Pray, Prey

Problem?  Was that dissatisfaction towards me?

You create me and you take me, such power you have.

This power is used against us, out of what, boredom?

The simplicity where you lie could not compare

to the entertainment of our world;

you had to come mess things up

just to keep yourself amused?

Before you came, I never had a reason to be mad,

never had a fault I was fearful of.  Call me a sinner,

but I rather had walked in the light and burned for it later

than sat in the corner and sulked.  Since we are all forgiven,

what shame should we carry on our shoulders?

Don’t threaten me with your authority;

I’m not here by choice so I choose to be cross.

Is there a rule saying we must be cooperative?

Good Lord, so soon—did you have to steal me so soon?

I was still in the middle of list making my risk taking.

The curiosities in my mind are sure to come about

after the confusion and denial diminish,

but questioning isn’t permitted.

We all spend our lifetime searching for the unexplained

to find out it’s a cheap trick; a lonely man stuck out of sight.

But someone comes to take us, so I assumed it was true.

Now face to face with my maker, the puzzle comes into view.

Love, as true as blue.

I can’t paint about love

because I’ve never seen it.

Its pinks, grays and in-between shades

I’ve never dipped my brush.

My canvas is bare; its rough white fibers

fight their neighbor for a parallel resting place.

The easel erect, the brushes unwet,

dive bristle first into pigment and oil,

bobbing and blending until they decide their fate.

What color shall thou grace us with?

Blue—as deep as the ocean, as fare and as true,

this blue is bluer, than blue is blue.

The nonsensical ramblings of a painter’s stroke

on canvas lay your brushes yoke.

At last, at last a masterpiece.

Monet, Renoir shall feel defeat.

For finally, a love that’s truer than true,

as blue is as blue, as blue is blue.