Goodreads
del.icio.us
Oedipa can't turn away: the aphids' red glare
on the roses stems and red ants trailing scurrying
for the honey dew. Oedipa can't turn away
as gasoline fire creeps to the blooms.
Oedipa sighs as the exoskeletons pop and
spread across her field of vision. A fireman's
hands pull her back from the burning bush
and the crackling thoraces. Oedipa's steps
stutter from the smell. The exodus of
each tiny life mutes her tongue
while she wishes to say a prayer for
the driver of the pick-up, who
no longer moves as gloved hands
pull him out of the driver's seat. Oedipa
does not understand one man's muttered words:
aleynu v'al kohl yisrael v'eemru. Amein.
The regulars never notice Oedipa's
feet. Varicose veins mark
the ankles of her legs.
Each time she touches
these scars, she is reminded
of her father's barbed wire
left in the tall grass and the
whites of her doctor's eyes
as she cried for her father
who did not answer. When
a beloved touches her
toes, she always whimpers.
She doesn't know if it is from
pain or the lack of pain.
Oedipa breathes the brine,
runs her hands across
the old, bleached
bricks that guard
St. Augustine
from the ocean.
The gravel
scratches
her hands,
the dirt in her skin
is a feel she doesn't
wish to name. Oedipa
sees the cannon
in this old Saint's
city. In the midday heat
of the off-season, all's
quiet despite the
implied blast. The
tide laps at the shore.
She shuts her
eyes and imagines
God's eyes closed
like a drunken lover
sleeping at the bar
who doesn't hear last call,
who doesn't answer
when the beloved's
hands try to rouse
him, who is,
above all things,
quiet.
Derick sincerely believes that everyone needs to dance around their house naked at least once a week; in addition to that, being declared an ethicist has made him a general misanthrope. Most good ethicists are. He loves tomatoes and thinks that loving such fruit is profound. He does not like to speak in third-person because he understands that it is a sign of true insanity, but so is literature. He has vowed no longer to be witty in biographies that are included in literary journals of any medium.