Spinozablue: An Eclectic Journal of the Arts

Lockdown

 
I turned to stone
that Saturday morn­ing.
It wasn’t slow.
There were no gasps
as my fin­gers dried like corn husks,
or as my hair locked in place,
never to feel the breeze again.
There was no time for that.
In one sec­ond, I was star­ing
out of eyes sewn to our walls.
There was no blink­ing.
I was alone,
star­ing out into a room
I could no longer shut out.

In Amber

 
Softly, you turn.
Your face is a mask of ash,
drift­ing with the cur­rents,
with my moods.
You peer at me out of cot­ton­wood eyes
that reflect fires I’ve not yet set.
Cares I’ve not flung at you
like dirty clothes.
Stay like that.
Just like that, for an instant,
while I bring out
my words and boil them alive.

Unwinding a Life

 
It hap­pened when I wasn’t look­ing.
It came, drag­ging its chains
of scorch­ing days,
each fused to gather your image.
It tore through my house,
rip­ping my silences,
husk­ing my voice
until it lay in ten­drils on the floor.
The way it hap­pened
is still a locked room dilemma,
mur­derer and vic­tim
blink­ing in the harsh light of real­ity.
The day rose, the walls already scored with red.

–Valentina Cano

Copyright© 2012, by Valentina Cano. All Rights Reserved.

Valentina Cano is a stu­dent of clas­si­cal singing who spends what­ever free time she has either writ­ing or read­ing. Her works have appeared in Popshot, Golden Sparrow Literary Review, The Black Fox Literary Magazine, Ontologica, Congruent Spaces Magazine, and Danse Macabre among numer­ous oth­ers. You can find her here: http://carabosseslibrary.blogspot.com

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