Flowers

I dreamed you were my private flower,
close to my breast, you knew
my heartbeat, my thoughts, my sins.
You forgave me everything with your
delicious spice that enfolded me in the
greatest love I have ever known.

Flowers forget the end to eternity;
they breathe life into stale air.
You breathed into me; your inhalation wove its
way into endless weeds that clouded my mind,
making me clear and whole again.
How can I not love you for that?

Yes, I do. But the truth of love lies only
in flower beds, tended like children. My love grew wild;
more weeds clutter us. Now I know that
fragrance is transitory, like love you share that
later wilts in the winds of winter that says the end.

Written by Cruel Virgin

Michaels House

It’s good and solid,
built of fresh scented wood with tough brick—
all multicolored—warm to the touch like a glass of mulled wine.
He cries: “Michael’s house!” every time we enter.
But it’s nobody’s house.
No one lives there.
They come and go, a way-station for the severed.

I think of the hospital, cool and bright,
forced smiles, nurses waving bye-bye,
off to half-way houses, group homes.
Michael doesn’t want to live there.
His eyes beg me: “Let me heal!”

The doctor says no.

Do you feel the shivery wind
blowing through the empty house
like the silent breath of the bleeding Lord?

Written by Cruel Virgin

Uncleansed

This rain, it’s always here,
Bulging dirty clouds,
spewing ashen drops,
A muddy volcano, erupting despair.
Where are you now?
Nature covers us, her filth; some call it grief.
Not me—sad fate that rains and rains and rains.
Even the angels cry; translucent tears can’t wash me away.
God, do you weep or laugh?
The joke is on me—he left me here.
Grubby rainwater covers the rainbow,
Leading to the other side—his home.
And you said I would be the first to go…

Written By Cruel Virgin

COWBOY

I rid myself of his sturdy mouth,
So warm and salty,
Dripping down into my throat.
When I saw his eyes,
I saw dull rainbows,
Glistening with grey sand.
They speak so quietly as
he raised his lips again
to greet me.
I had to turn away.
No longer a mouth,
Just a chasm, gaping open,
Ready to swallow me whole
And steal all my dreams
Down into his belly
Where all his wild things go.

Written By Cruel Virgin