REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas


Allergy Eyes (National Poetry Month Day 11)
04/12/2010, 8:46 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

they blare up red. the light
across the dark shatters. splays into beams.
you squint, maybe this is
where you found it last time, the
familiar echo of laser lights diffracting
behind your retinas.
the smoke. the red dot
smoldering like the tip of
the washington monument. but you’re
unwinding the spool of fiber optics like
there is nothing left in you. i see you
wrapping that string around your finger,
tying the bow pretty like a doll’s.
memory of last
time your eyes swelled shut
and scraped against your eyelids like macadamia
nuts, salted, hard, ridge down the middle.
red light coming through like
the blood of a steak, in pinpoints.
the chambers in your sockets,
under your eyes. fattened purple gray like
cow tongue. the fluid and the crust.
staring at the red
miles away in the dark.
the undulating spokes,
porcupine quills, venom-loaded.
it is here again. you are brewing, softening
in the soup. bready, dense and heavy like
a sponge. a sniffle, grit in your cornea,
your whispers have blurred light halos too.

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Shades of Red
08/30/2009, 3:33 PM
Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , ,

Things are not how
they used to be. The pink
in your cheeks is prevalent like
a pulse, even when you sleep,
when the air is cool. You spend
your days tinted by the
light coming through your crimson
curtains, flare up like a star’s
corona, then recede to your
state of eclipse, darkened
by your own thoughts. You are
always a shade of red.