Poetry
. . . from ATIKA CHERRY
Star Crashed
Particles of pain and pleasure aligned
Only distinguishable is the sharp edges
The star my star my sound sleep my smile
Are thousands sharp particle- cuts
Working on those pieces to make the same star-
War-like show I'm playing alone-
My star will never be the same again- I know unnatural will never be the natural- I know unnatural will be more irresistible If it turns fragile I'll crash Like a walnut between doors.
Busted Bliss
Desperate moment of happiness found!
My breasts were getting bigger causing stretch marks And were not responding to any sexual act. They were in their way of full bloom, So heavy, full of pain and was ready to be Suckled by an angel of mine.
An angel, my baby, my sweet love
Was inside of my womb—
Never loved anyone before seeing this much, Never craved for a soft touch ever! The unseen made my every moment a heavenly blast!
I saw a heartbeat beating faster twice than mine The installation of placenta was making me Beautifully sick. Morning sickness the sweet reminder …and I was the port for the hugs and kisses for the baby From his or her dad!
Couldn't even guess Angel of Death was around!
My tummy is a grave, I'm a whole graveyard—
So cold, so blue—
The stretch marks on my breasts are the reminders Of a powerless mother's busted bliss.
Atika Cherry is a poet. E-mail: preoti@yahoo.com
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