Limber

Have you ever looked into the eyes of a Phantom?
Sweet and untamed --
void of the cowardice of men
who have things to lose, like ego.
The wine was gone so i could be humiliated and
he slid, slowly his finger, round the edge
til the sound was shrill:
a hollow glass
for a hollow face
in a hollow place,
for which i cannot name.
i asked if it was the smell of blood
or the taste
that he preferred on the lips; or
if it was the lips all alone he preferred prior,
for rescuing,
among other things.
He replied, to save them
to save them
from the masks of mortal beasts
who swallow insecurity
just to spit it out as pride;
to save them
from the tight rope in which they climb
wearing satin slips
and slipping
all
the way
down.

e. chayes

Eating Madeleines on October Mornings

dawn tapped on the window to interrupt
the dreamy chatter
of victorian estates with peeling paint
and watercolor lovers, who
smeared deceit upon the pegs
of a ladder
climbing from the garden.
weight of an apricot sky,
pressing hard on the lids, summoned
strength against weeping corneas
settled on the sill --
reflecting her verdigris gaze.
as she sat on the toilet curtained dark,
socks whimpered on her ankles;
left eye's lashes (a cluster missing like stars,
only noticed
by the strangers who dared look deep enough
as they passed)
flickered and peeled.

e. chayes

Aster novae-angliae

coffee wet my chords like violins left in the rain
dewy windows in a sunrise
blades of grass, wept in yellow autumn
the scent alone led my senses to the stage
spotlighted daybreak, symphonic alarm
(technology simulating something I could not describe,
even if I tried to describe,
from a dream)
i emptied my pockets to find golden aster and a rusty compass.
the dials wouldn't turn but the petals talked me out of being stagnant
showed me a door to a star
the path swept by giant arms of oaks
the path crawling to a cacao canopy that turned like stained pages
in a used book
from the trailer on schooley's mountain
we used to call a library.

e. chayes