My fur hat spiked high its charlatanry
I couldn't pretend my raging Seaburn had crystalized into soft winter candles
He stared into her eyes, his eyes flitted between her eyes and her neck, which then slowly
caressed her thighs
His hand found hers naturally, as the curls near her ears, laced with sweet apple perfume,
heralded her smile
His fingers sang her song that drove away the hems of her worries
She turned to his face, mesmerized by the polished glass that shone back at him, he gently lifted
her eyelashes, her stare at him could cost him his death
and he would still care about the eyes
that spoke to his mind than the looming axe of the reaper
The curtains of my visitation into their summer cemetery just begun to rise
Her eyes dilated with the thoughts of a hundred new moon surprises, her hands laced with this
callous, honeyed touch, her mind expanded by his advent into her life.
His eyelashes glittering, the eyebrows of that forehead confident with his enterprise, he smiled,
as I knew what would foreshadow
Reigning in her confidence against her
Patriotism at the expense of another
Dreams of nights etched in ballroom dances and apostolic ceremonies turning acidic under his
gaze, the long curve of his eyelashes, the fifth of which she told him one fine twilight under the
dim rainbow-shaped life as an oyster, his eyelash an urchin
I watched this Mermaidia drown in blue liquor, her ecstasy being the drug he used against her
Poetry collects in my glass, the steaming water being my ball of the future
As the deserted shards of her heart shadow their foretelling in his innocence
ABOUT:
Selene Vina is a writer and poet who publishes her works of poetry on her Instagram handle @crimsonliesandunmarkedstars. She has completed seventeen years living on this planet. Lives in the Emirate of Dubai of the United Arab Emirates. Engages her time in reading; She specializes in gothic literature, fantasy, and fiction. Likes to thrift clothes to reduce her role in capitalism and adores writing poetry in the raven's hours of the night, is an Indian who loves incorporating her culture into poetry, and plans to establish representation for South-Indian WOC in the Literary World.
BEHIND THE POEM:
‘Hourglass Seaweed’is a classical rendition of a glazing sight witnessed by a woman,
aware of its slithering outcome. Amongst the voicers and the ignorers, the readers enjoy
the serendipity of being ignored. The poem is the shedded skin of a woman who enjoys
her own solace and comes across an interaction all too well known to her.
The consecutive glances and childlike innocence inoculated in the woman, as his parlored gaze sweeps across her eyelashes. The readers fold into an epigram of emotional torment, for how can such decadence and virtue be the concoction of betrayal. The man fans her eyes his own and begins to whisper into her ear, she notices. The readers are cast into a snowglobe, as they scan from the outside, a hologram in this interaction, as the woman forms a smile she can only cherish but not remember. The man smiles back, knowing gentle reassurance is all she needed
The viewers of this tragedy, glide alongside the woman, who now looks even more
critical of their exchange. How can she forfeit the interaction to be genuine compassion,
how can the ray of callousness to such a debutante be ignored, how was she certain that the stare of pure ecstasy labeled by her as a ‘ringmaster’s spade’ was all but?.....
The reader remains perplexed as the eye the mist sweeping the woman’s sip of her drink.
Her eyes bind herself to the inevitable. She is sure, for how can she ignore that pretty
glare, one she had forfeited herself to ignore. The man casts a shadow of a gaze to her, his eyes immediate on his preferred target. She recounts, and the reader has disbarred the notion of the advocate, and follows her on. For why would a smile hide so much from agaze so loved?......
The poem is an embellishment to an espionage’s antioch. To be solicitor as she witnesses
fellow women being lured into betrayal for secrets of national importance. As she
glimmers between their flowery gazes and seeks to warn them but doesn’t. The readers
are swept astray by the man’s gaze, how would they know... that a gaze so profound
could have been the centre of love or deception.
EDITOR'S SONG CHOICE:
ELOHIM by Half Love