The Atheist of Mirrors
Don't mistake my mouth for yours.
My voice does not live in your cave;
that sound you hear has no echo,
it's your stone of lies.
Don't mistake my skin for yours.
My body has its own house;
its roof is my imagination,
I still hammer the walls.
Don't mistake my sex for yours;
my desire is not your door.
Don't mistake my eyes for supplication.
My invisibility is your nightmare.
Don't mistake the doctor for
the midwife. What you bore
in me has teeth. Here, come closer,
but don't mistake my kiss for keeping.
Don't mistake my color for yours;
Mine will blind your despair.
Don't mistake my children for your own;
My womb is another country.
Don't mistake my seeing for believing;
I'm an atheist of mirrors.
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Author's Note
In a government of anger, anger finds its voice.
Other stories by Philip F. Clark
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Excellent stuff. It could equally apply to the Left and the Right, as well as the up or the down.
Btw, the best poem I have read on here for ages and ages.
Thank you Samuel.
Devastating
Fantastic.*
The repetition adds a real brevity to the words as well as a nice rhythm. Your conviction sings. *
Beautifully paced and lineated.
Thank you colleagues!
Don't mistake my skin for yours.
My body has its own house;
its roof is my imagination,
I still hammer the walls.
and other lines. good title too *
*
Excellent!
*
Wicked good, Phillip!
The last two stanzas are too good. ****
I definitely wish I had written this. The title almost mirrors the title of my as of yet unpublished book.
Wonderful poem, Philip. Really enjoyed it.
*
*, Philip. Pairing the dissonance is a smart idea and really well-written.
Thank you, all. Much appreciated.