Twinkle, Twinkle Perfect Star
07 August 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: power of an opening question
Twinkle, twinkle perfect star, when did you begin to fall and carve across our darkness? At first…once upon our future…our whispers…cherished as gems displayed on velvet…as close to silence as a drum brush sweeping across the head… transformed our hearts into Victorian lace Valentine’s cards…marriage…a skip down the yellow brick road…a honeymoon in Hawaii…we made love with a waterfall baptizing our bodies…missed the luau…you wore only a double orchid lei in bed…we found the rhythm of the Pahu drums…a ranch-style starter home…no air conditioning…I was your prince charming dressed to the nines for success…I thought a kiss could awaken the adult in you…slay the dragons…set you free from your childhood…you wore those kisses like lipstick…scrubbed them clean when things changed.
Now, we are silhouettes etched in pitch black…all that’s left are improvisations across time…your father’s ring…the cut down a tear channel…the scar…my dad…always hammering emotional nails flush with my heart…left scar tissue in my eyes…it took me a year to tell you my sister committed suicide…last time I saw her…a cigarette burned through the cloth of her sanity…her fingers fluttered like butterflies around her face glowing red…then…then the mailman smelled her death through the mail…
