At the Crossroads, Everything Changes

A Timeless Dance
—Poems by Eliana Vanessa, Mandeville, LA
—Visuals by James Maj

a timeless dance

skeleton newlyweds
tend to get hot and bothered
during summer,
though a little less sweet with the sour
never left desire well enough alone,
tonight, necromancers
march in a second-line
to guide restless bones home—
gathering skullcaps, stirring mint juleps,
emptying out loose change,
and, with Miles Davis
in the background,
they’ll carefully
rearrange cemetery dirt to show
how true love, frozen in time,
once embodied,
always plays nice,
as its ancient tongue begins to thaw,
moving like so much hard ice,
just to come back to life
within a lonesome blues tune,
entombed for a honeymoon,
where they are meant to rest in peace.

suspension of disbelief

in the space
where night
and the river
intersect,
two bodies
lose themselves
to loneliness
as hope
hollows herself,
in the burn
of crimson lips
that wildly kiss,
to melt
the frozen face
of disbelief
goodbye.

lost in the skin

every illusion
is made for flesh,

and it is no surprise
that i cannot walk straight

when all these crooked veins
beg for more blood

with which to circulate
the body of a perfect lie.

shadows on fire

skin cringes
attempting to flee
the licking heat
of burning memories,
as resurrected truths
hold strong
within repressed consciousness,
relegating pain to the role of bystander—
the soul, scorched,
caught in the aftershock,
having no other choice
but to descend the spiral of defenses
that, like so much self-torture,
seems hellbent on lighting the way.

notes on how to decapitate an angel

carefully
remove wings.

keep flyaway feathers
as an offering.

cut deep into
the heart of its jugular,

repeat,

for the regrowth of faith
is vulgar,

and will rear its ugly head,
again and again.

soul-stakes

at the crossroads,
everything changes,
as if on cue, the blindfold,
at one point, having been
neatly wound about your skull, unravels,
and all the prophecies
you thought would guide you
during your darkest hour,
forward your prayers
to a voice mail in the sky
because nothing is
of imminent importance,
and, you are comfortable with this,
comfortable with all of it,
as you justify
that some spirit has surely by now
answered the question,
pressing your ear to the ground,
on the side of a familiar highway,
where it gets hard to listen,
as the stakes got higher over the years,
whether you are here, or there,
destined to remember
a pregnancy test,
buried near the house you grew up in—
what summer was it?
who saved you from yourself then?
it’s not over, but it’s over, cries the wind,
as, suddenly, you feel older, all the wiser yet,
to make another offering of gin.

Today’s LittleNip:

honesty is the best policy
—Eliana Vanessa

i murdered you
into every crow,

using a pink and yellow
arrow with bow,

looks like i worship Satan,
after all.

____________________

Eliana Vanessa is originally from Buenos Aires, Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age. Her poems have been selected for display via a community project called “St Tammany Poetry on the Streets”, and she recently participated in the Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019, upcoming) as part of a panel of other selected poets. Eliana Vanessa’s work appears in Siren’s Call, The Horrorzine, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Ramingo’s Porch, Fearless Magazine, and the anthology, Masks Still Aren’t Enough. For more about Eliana, go to www.facebook.com/eliana.vanessa.7758/. For more of her poetry, go to www.thehorrorzine.com/Poetry/Aug2018/ElianaGradishar/ElianaGradishar.html/. Welcome to the Kitchen, Eliana, and don’t be a stranger!

Tonight in Sacramento, the Sac. Poetry Center will present a special event: Soundscapes & Poetry with Thomas Antonic and Michael Fischer from Vienna, Austria, with improvised sounds and poetry, 7:30pm. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa, celebrating new poetry friends!

 Eliana Vanessa

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