Sunstroke

by:

Iolanda Scripca

 

Eyelids heavy with memories
Cover lights and shadows of a hospital in ruins.
A baby with grown-up fingers
Reads the past in Braille
Barely touching the meaning of broken cobblestone streets of her past.
Her fingertips retract like eyes of snails back into the present
Where handsome men - immoral in their animalism -
try to understand LOVE for the very first time.
Great White sharks kill tri-athletes and place them in immortality
as writers reach the end of the journey frustrated by their lack of gills ...
The torrid yellow burden rolls down incinerated crystals between her breasts
She senses people as zigzags with burglarized drawers

rhythmically roaming up and down the Riviera...
The ocean breeze murmurs: “ Michelle, my belle...”, “ I love, I love you, I looove you...”
Invading her nostrils with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee

and the smell of barbeque that, once she could digest.

The sun drops gold coins into the turquoise as they ricochet into her degenerating eyes.

I see myself in her from the above as unscrupulous tides rip open our sandy abdomen

Violently sucking my body's sand sculpture back to the undertow.

It's almost dusk and seagulls fly through me to a secret shelter I wish I had...

I'm scared to fall asleep as I might wake up without wings

while numbness's taking over my bleeding shoulder blades...

"The body of a peddler with broken clocks on sale

was found tonight

on the landing pad of a hospital in ruins"

 

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