This night of sanguine hips
when blinded by the bleach of sun
we shed our last maracas tears
Mascara rolling down her cheek
forgets impending doom of dawn
Dancing in the graveyard dust
burning on her bloodfilled lips
the blessing of the shrouds of light
this night of sanguine hips
6 feet under, worms are waiting
for our corazon of moonlit nights
She sways and zips her eyelids shut
and forgets this dreaded parking lot
this night of sanguine hips
Photograph by Marco Bolognesi
Today at Real Toads Marion wants us to write to the music of David Hildago
—
September 5, 2014
ahhh, so nice. graveyards and parking lots, maracas and mascara, this is clever and moody. i like it.
Bjorn, This has darkness of more than one kind flowing through it. Well written piece. —Susan
Wow! This is a potent piece of writing. I love your word choices – it is rich and varied.
Incredible, nicely done.
“this night of sanguine hips”…..a wonderful write, Bjorn! The thought of those worms, waiting…..yoiks!.
This is so eerily dark Bjorn!! i like the way the last stanza leaves me brooding !! and the symmetry of the form!! amazing!
Sounds like a bad ending to the sanguine hipped lady’s moonlight night escapade. This writing makes us feel sorry for her.
Creative title and I like maracas tears and the corazon of moonlit night ~
Your closing is chilling – poignant…nicely done!
A new favorite–so many great lines and near homonyms==they work so well, and describe so well this near missing, this wishing for something to have that imagined passion–of course it does have a passion. Wonderful sounds. k.
Blows my mind in words, though the illustration makes me cring–so many uses of women! But well may we try all the masks to woo life, to live on that last night, and then zip our eyelids shut.
bjorn this one is a classic, just classic – a whole story whirling around words..
So much to fuel the dark moodiness in this piece…”She sways and zips her eyelids shut and forgets this dreaded parking lot this night of sanguine hips” If only we could, not see, forget…Amazing piece!
The rhyme/no rhyme in this piece is skillfully executed to great affect – the eerie narrative within the poem, itself, becomes the main character.