Ghost Post 31: Treacherous Trio

English: Tomb of Rosario Castellanos in the Pa...

Origin

Over the dead body of a woman I am growing,
on her bones my roots are coiled
and from her disfigured heart
emerges a hard, vertical stalk.
From the coffin of an unborn child.
from its stomach shattered before the harvest
I rise up, tenacious, definitive,
brutal as a gravestone and on occasion sad
with the stony weariness of a funeral angel
who hides a tearless visage beneath his hands.

Rosario Castellanos

The Street

Portrait of Octavio Paz
Octavio Paz (Photo credit: DanAllison)

A long silent street.
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
stepping on silent stones and dry leaves.
Someone behind me also stepping on stones, leaves: if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs. I turn: nobody.
Everything dark and doorless.
Turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me: nobody.

Octavio Paz

Jane Goodall
Jane Goodall (Photo credit: nick step)

Untitled

Eyes mad with fright, their lids torn off
That, helpless, they must watch the red-hot iron
Creep closer, closer, through the oozing blood
Each fiber tight with horror for the end,
The angry hiss as deep into each vital orb
The red-hot metal bores. The scream that issues
From the womb of agony herself.

Jane Goodall

 

Daily Prompt: Trick or Treat:
No tricks, just handing out tricked out poetic treats today.

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12 thoughts on “Ghost Post 31: Treacherous Trio”

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