hollow

i don’t get enough sun in the land of the sun-
it’s threads have worn and i untangle wildly, dancing,
loosening from a cosmic umbilical grasp…

how can you remember your hurt so well?
i don’t even know the path to my own
soul.

i constructed damascus steel out of the
frothing of a play-full jellyfish i wove my roses
from the paws of lions, i held my self swiftly, tightly,
my veins streaming, my ribs a comb for demons,
when i was rendered into two.

i squirmed under the solar columns, i shirked
from the rays, i peeled my aura away when it became sun-
burnt. my shrieks became leopards that wove my guts into a tapestry
of gore.

i feasted on dead spirits, that night.

i drank from the honey suckles that bloom at night.

i made a wreath of mist and i lay it on a silver fawn.

i drank from a turquoise lagoon during the mid day.
i shivered.

i dreamt.
i had undone my own blood and i was undoing my arteries-
i had slept for many years and i awoke-
with a lion’s bite.

i am undone in the land of the sun.

You may find Donna Arkee online here:  http://www.myspace.com/yoursoutherncanismine
http://czechbook.livejournal.com/

donna arkee is an observer and neither a follower or a leader.
her dream occupation is to open a bath house in the czech republic so she can legitimately say that she launders czechs for a living.