At the Mercy of Stones

I am the woman 
with stones in her mouth.
They crush weak protest
into slumbering whispers

between cold sheets,
I dream of old promises
and fragrant nights
once filled with hungry lovers. 

The moon paints women
with strange eyes
and sharp fingers onto
my ceiling. They laugh 
at my stubbed nails,
fallow breasts.

In shadowed blue visions, pages
part from worn bindings.
They drift out the window,
my story no longer.

Like Demosthenes,
I hope the stones teach
my tongue new stories
told in a fiercer voice.

Pris Campbell

Published in Lotus Bloom Journal,
September 2003

Also accepted for publication in The Women of the Web print anthology, 2004

This poem took First Place in the July  2003 PBL competition judged by kris kahn, poet and journal editor..

Artwork: Lust03
             by Itzhak Ben-Ariel
copyrighted and used with permission

Itzhak Ben-Ariel has appeared on my pages several times. He is an Israeli photographer, specializing in photomontage. Visit his site by clicking on his name to view more of his stunning work and read his philosophy of art.

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