Two people sitting on a nightingale floor.
One is a sinner, the other’s a whore.
Ten candles flicker, flames kissing the wall
Frozen in quiet, dark shadows dancing
one second still and the very next leaping.
in silvered quiet,
tarnished by fear, hate and crescents of wildness .
Polished by black velvet words
Silently spoken
Broken she shudders and judders
retelling the violence
through this, she’s healing
whilst sitting in silence.
Her face tells the story of
years of lost childhood
decades of darkness
splintered nights of full blackouts
where the memory is vanished
furled up in corners
foxed, stained and dog-eared
they shy from the light
the sound of kind voices and
unbidden caring.
Two people sitting on a nightingale floor.
Which one’s the sinner? Which is the whore?
Lines, bruises, tears, scars keeping score.
There a brief sound, the shadows stand silent
Another lonely Londoner, soul torn in quarters
Of moth-eaten cheesecloth, stained by salt tearfall.
Her mouth purses, fights with the silence
It opens, then pauses, lips forming vowels
Her cheeks grimace, forming those valleys
Where rivers run downward,
the spring source her eyelids.
Her shoulders pause, hitch, dip, rise
and then let go.
Is it the floor’s song?
A sigh of intrusion, or a cry from her darkness?
The ghosts, linger and circle and
test, try her patience.
They tease her and taunt her and
deride all her courage.
They hide in the not-light, that space between shadows
The gap between words
The pause before promise
the stop before first step.
She stands, covers mirror,
and kicks out the candles.
And strides out a-singing.
Laughing at shadows.
She’s not what she was, she’s now the lightness of
purpose, sweet self worth and courage.
She faced up the shadows,
And looked in the mirror,
disposed of her future,
the one they did tell her
was all she could hope for.
And laid down her past hurts
with a soft kiss of parting
and a promise to remember
and revisit the painhouse
to retain the power to
tell them to quiet
And let her regain life.
The floor is now silent as she leaves for
whatever may follow…
Hangs, catching the scent.
In the night
underavintagesky 