Vesta opens a diary

full of poems from 2011,

the last Time we all thought

the World was ending.

She reads a few

to Athena, to quell

the Sea Sickness…

"POETRY

It is a funny thing
to stand before a crowd
and lay around
these makings of my Heart.

The notions I cannot explain
in more, eloquate
themSelves in less, each
revision climbing closer.

And like a knot
undone, my cryptic mass
reveals, all along,
it was truly

but a thread."

"That's it?"  Athena asks,
"Lob me another one."

Vesta rolls her eyes,
and turns the page...

"DEAR SUN, OUR ANGST

We scramble.  Our hands and feet
race to beat your blaze
as you plummet, ever faster
down, towards the ground, to feel
your warm glow, that vanishes
in moments made between

blinks.  Barely just in Time
we watch you sink, with heaving
breath, and hands upon our knees.
There, cradled by the dip
of two sharp peaks, we make you
lull a moment.  We make

believe we choose, just when
and how you come, and leave
but soon gravity reminds us;
each Day burns quickly by
and Killing Time won't ever be
a trophy that we hang,

above our proud mantles.  Dear Sun,
our angst, has little to do
with you.  We know you never slow 
the pace, to mingle with
the passer-byes, so panting
we try to beat you,

so that even if we may not
greet you, then at least
we see you coming.  We could
simply turn our heads instead,
feel you climb over covers
to waking Lips,

and smile, without casting
hooks that truss us
to your mad velocity.  Yet still
we never let you shine alone,
just pad our wrists,
where shackles scrape

the bone."

"That's fucking depressing,
Vesta," Athena whines,
"Speak me something
else"

"Sorry Athena," Vesta says
without apology, "I did not
know you were only drinking
grape juice.  Here,
a sweet one, for you..."


"KISSING

It is never enough.
Eager Kiss consumes Lips
who seeks to cravings
satiate, upon Kiss in return.

In their honesty, they rejuvenate
the process.  So electric,
and yet earnest, their desire
to consume.

Did Lips ever live
before Kiss?  Is it not
to complete such a vital task
that Lips survive?

Do not let Word fool you.
However it may play,
with Tongue, it will never
know the closeness of Kiss.

What more is Word
than the ebbing Tides
that bear Lips, gently
out to Kiss?

For what Tongue
ever intended to convey
true Lover's adoration
that had not hoped

to end its lengthy
labors, in the comfort
of soft Lips, lost
in the Seas of Kiss..."

"I can't relate to that,"
Athena says, blandly.

"I don't give a fuck,
Athena," Vesta snaps, "Find
some Other entertainment, then."
She closes the Book,
and walks aWay.