CRÉATIONS LITTÉRAIRES
Seductive Red
The sensuality awarded to red, A color so aware of its power, Stranger with the scarlet lips, Do you know that you capture souls when you walk?
Are you not aware of the candor that comes out of it, you, so perfect? My writings are not connected but the imaginary is delighted, I don’t wait for you to turn around, The world stops dead, the light is red, You and your lips are even more red, My ancestors would scream for I am no longer pious
Children are born of these wars.
I am out of breath barely following. Her spirit spirals as it sprints. What I remember of childhood is: legs, between legs, and the difference between running and running away, between hiding and disappearing. Look at her body in a room. Notice how difficult it is to quiet into peace. She is pieces. Even as she sits upright as the teacher suggests she mends and minds the places where the glue is no longer binding this edge with another. Even while sitting still there is work to do. When she is sitting and still she reapplies Elmer's glue.
Poetic Just-Us
Here we are bubbling beings,
In this small space we call home.
The corrugated iron and newspaper we have fashioned into comfort,
Comforts us with our privacy,
And fashions a place where we make sense.