Poetry

Ellamonia

January 16, 2009 at 1:47pm

Ellamonia was the tallest
elaborate and nothing

transcribing simple patterns,
easy, unedited

the author had pulled each
string from the veins of her
heart without thinking,
without reaching out to the
others, a bloodstain on paper
held proudly by two year old
hands,

look, no subjects, no verbs
a purpose shrouded in the
mind’s metaphor, indecipherable
to any friend or stranger

Ellamonia trembled with realization
in a room full of editors, her head
towered above the others

and if she got sick of that rambling
from emofly17 about baby Jason
Mraz’s version of Lollipop

but did she ever get sick of that rambling
the repetition
the repetition
the tripey trite alliteration

Ellamonia’s face was getting
hotter, all of the copy was
printed from Facebook

Ellamonia knew I was jealous
of the summery voices of boys
smouldering over sunny halves
of holes and guitars and

Ellamonia hated the sound of
my poetry clicking against her
legs and eyes and teeth

Ellamonia was going crazy
because she was in love
with me

and Ellamonia was in love
with me because I wrote her
that way, all that red
lighting hair

and those windy wind
legs that cruel judgemental
copy shredding angsty

her freckles, elaborate
and nothing.

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