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.
Planetary Signatures 