Mrs. Claus

By inhisbelly

This weight deceives like ghosts.
Shit—like politics. 
I sleep, wrapped in cream chiffon pulled taut 
against my ballooning torso. 
I wake, gasping at diaphanous hands wringing 
my neck,
stiff, after resting on layers 
of desert sage micro-hairs
and poorly constructed nests 
in my dream states devoid of recourse.

My skin feels foreign— 
sticky and sad.
It possesses the gleam of linoleum
and I shout at it until it burns the deep red 
of the Armenian rugs I lay on in lieu of 
lifting my iron legs. Useless.

Useless to love me with all your pretended might
and severe kisses.
I will 
              always 
drift off to another packed theater;
another liquor-fueled passion, after
with the next passing moon.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2013 inhisbelly
Published on Sunday, December 22, 2013.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "Mrs. Claus"

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  • Cassette On Thursday, January 4, 2018, Cassette (1233)By person wrote:

    "This weight deceives like ghosts." I don't know how I've never read your work... but your imagery is next level .

  • inhisbelly On Monday, January 6, 2014, inhisbelly (50)By person wrote:

    I am so appreciative of all of your responses. Numbers, I applaud you for your thoughtfulness and thoroughness. Things have been rougher than hell lately, but writing pieces like this helps tremendously. Much love for you all.

  • Numbers Peppelini On Wednesday, January 1, 2014, Numbers Peppelini (95)By person wrote:

    Feeling a need to preface, that my comment isn't about the author , so I would rather keep it in perspective, for if we can't separate one from their work, this powerful message becomes a cry for help and not great poetry. That being said, the writer's ability to send me spiraling into remembrance, toward the tonnage I've felt once within the throes of depression, where lifting a glass to my lips became next to impossible. I felt useless and was sure no one could ever manage to love me, let alone care to be around me. In this write, the subject swirls imagery around her fingers for us to lick them dirty. And so shall I, until the day she rises up in total rebellion to those making her a slave in her own mind. The actions of others should make absolutely no difference to who we are. Perhaps until the subject in this write stands tall in her saddle holding her brilliance as a sword against all ignorance, shall she be merely marred in her cry for help . Bravo to the author of this piece !!!

  • TropicalSnowstorm On Tuesday, December 31, 2013, TropicalSnowstorm (1709)By person wrote:

    Very interesting piece! The imagery in this one is fantastic, and I like feeling of someone trapped in a strange, foreign body they dislike and can not completely come to terms with. I expected a feel good piece based on the title...this was much more interesting and complex. Ciao, T/S Scholar

  • jwright87 On Saturday, December 28, 2013, jwright87 (41)By person wrote:

    something special

  • DerSturmKommt On Friday, December 27, 2013, DerSturmKommt (105)By person wrote:

    I had to read this poem five times before commenting. One day for each read until I finally realized that it's about a pregnant woman who is in love with a man that does not return her affection in a healthful manner. (Well, my interpretation, anyhow). I am so captivated with your beautiful writing style, Bev! "Cream chiffon pulled taut" is one of my favorites, but the "severe kisses" and "next passing moon" are also especially striking additions. I am so glad that you posted a new work before Christmas! Sooo wonderful & always a pleasure to read. Love to travel to your special fairy land . . . .

  • A former member wrote: AMazing words...i´M filled with awe...there´s something here. Poetic.

  • carlosjackal On Monday, December 23, 2013, carlosjackal (2466)By person wrote:

    Wow..Fantastic piece..You really nailed something here..Merry Xmas!

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