Kari McNeil

Apology for Your Ruse

I am sorry
That what you want
Is to brush me
With golden silks
Ripped underneath,
As if it is not
My hands
You are pulling,
My heart
That you rip,
And just
Another one of the snowflakes
That you melt
With baneful breath.

I am sorry
That my arms cannot hold against
The invisible,
That veins are tearing,
Expelling tears
That pool around bare feet,
Ice cold
To walk on.

I am sorry
I cannot hide it
Behind veiled windows,
Standing open,
Darkness climbing in
On clawed toes
With eyes like that of Charmers’.
I am sorry I cannot
Lose it
Underneath one dampened earth
And stone
With inscription
Calling to come rest,
How beautiful,
What you want
Is here.

I am sorry
You cannot see it
Through that
Façade of floating wings,
Rustling their feathers
To take flight,
Carrying you softly,


Past things
Which were never there.

I am sorry
I have no floating wings
To grab away
The claw toed
That nestles under
What you want,
And that I laugh
Reaching out to touch
Chocolate from Lucifer,
Taste it, darling,
Though I know
It’s poisoned.

I am sorry
That if I were
To rip away
The feathered wings
All that would be left
Were broken arrows
Pointing without Aim,
Golden silks
Ripped underneath.

I am sorry
The very wind on high
That pushes feathered wings
The Monster
Screeching in
Raw ears,
Cutting apart
You are sorry,
But it is
What you want.


Copyright © 2002-2011 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2011 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.