First Two Installments in the "Lucy" series

This is a poetry series that I'm starting. Don't ask me why I called her Lucy, it just seemed to be a fitting name. These two were written when I was half asleep... so that explains a lot. Also, they're meant to be read as though looking through the lens of a camera; impersonal, but somehow attached, because that's how I see her in my mind.

Without further ado...

I give you Lucy.


"Lucy: reconnected"

1.


she bends her knees -
broken at the joints
and hunches
over at the waist,
calloused and
held together
with rusted safety pins

picking thorns from
the rose garden,
snipping away
wilted buds like the
uneven parts
of her paper dolls



2.


-- cross stitched
her way through her
course spiderweb coffin
and inhaled deeply,
pulling nicotine stained bruises
into her lungs;
biting down on the nymph's
fingernails
and dove into the River Styx.



3.


we pulled the sheet back,
unveiling the final exhibit
and smirked through
the round of applause;
our grand finale
finally complete.









"Lucy: you have nothing to lose but everything"


recycled veins
purge forth centuries of
unwanted thoughts
and meandering memories

long ago --
[maybe 10,000 years or so]
-- shed of everything but
bone;

handed over to
rusted apathy
and the wingless butterflies
in utero

Lucy's lungs hold sores
the way the bruises
on her thighs
hold the varying hues
of purple
and yellow...

-- and she
sucks back air
through the ever-growing
gaps
in her ribcage;;;

darling,
your feet
barely touch the ground
and it's time
to take
your medicine