meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

The Differences



If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

Wisdom of the Infinite

Not Someone's Grand Illusion

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

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Beyond Door Number Three

Great Spirit

Elise, Elise

The Make-Up of Molecules

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THERE WILL BE MORE ...

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

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I Am Time


the face in the mirror
won't answer me
"I have questions..." I say
"I demand answers."
the face remains silent, resolute
the lips embroidered with purple silk
the eyes are barriers of defiance
the brows twin broods of resolve
the hair malignant and writhing
corkscrewed tines in disarray
"Hello!" I say.
picking up a brick from my stack to shatter
the reflection
hers
the face in the mirror collapses
the shoulders hunch like two folding bridges
the hands rise as if to fend off a blow
the purple silken seam dissolves
as the hands pull on the embroidery threads
"There's no need for impatience,
nor insolence..." She says.
the face speaks
she responds as if I am slow-witted
"I am Time..." She declares.
"I answer all."
"I know what becomes of us..."


legal copyright for this poem
and also for this author
Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
December 7. 2017 2017 11:47Am PST date/time stamped
author retains all legal copyrights





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