Sapphic Voices Poetry

Poetry by Trey Ebony Ravencrest

Poetry Set Two

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Because Ghosts Don't Photograph Well

Copyright © by Trey Ebony Ravencrest, June 23, 2000

A seahorse impaled upon my apple-skin fingers
I see Darkness creep -
heavily ripe with interlude and
pregnant with tiny bubble-urchins of silence -
creep, creep curiously to my window
and press her grubby ink-smudged nose against the pain.
I rust quietly and watch her lick my breath from citrus-shields of
glass,
tripping mischievously on chalk-line boundaries as she
splits her wings and spills out across the print-shredded photo-stained
walls.
She's here because I rode my empty seahorse-shell too hard
and blew the fuse on Stonehenge.
Because I flicked the moon off with
one naked toe and sent the stars to their room.
Because my jar's cracking full of words I can't digest.
Because I need another skin-tight shoebox of loneliness to hide in.
Because death snags my roots on screams that can barely rip my voice to
a
whisper.
Because I miss your boygirl body I
miss your oak-leaf hands I
miss your scented treydream smile and paper-housed winks and
kite-flown toffee-kissed lips...

And because ghosts don't photograph well.

Empty Tracks

Copyright © by Trey Ebony Ravencrest, May 16, 1999

People yell, "We're on the wrong platform!"
"Where's Kilkenny?"
"C16!"
And I just watch.

The railings are cold beneath my soul
In all this rush I'm forgotten.
Invisible to the naked eye, not quite
But neglected as I sit alone
And face the face of time suspended clear.

You're already three hours late.

The doves, or pigeons, pigeons yes
Glide freely in the dome-spun rafters
Unrestrained by care and still dependent
On themselves
Themselves alone.

They never have to wait for you
Like I do.

Another train pulls in mechanically
Proficiently with ease
And velocity takes swarms in their directions.
I comb the crowds
Not inclined to leave my railing for it's mine and
Just why should I give it up
To disappointment?

A woman passes, smiles at me
I smile back and wonder
What's your name?
Where are you going?
Do you read philosophy?
If you could analyse my death
What did I die of?
And I wish so hard
I could follow her
Get on that train and live her life
With her and know her heart
So she'd love mine.

"Jasmine!"
"Reece!"
Two soulmates meet
And kiss so deep I look away
The anger, tears and emptiness
So cold in railing black.

Jasmine isn't left to wait
While advertisements glare at her
While people oh so busily
Slide blankly passed her sighs.

Why can't you be more like Reece?

A child cocks his head at me
His tuneless hum abandoned
And I meet his stare until he runs
Just flees back to his mom.

Tick. Tick.
I grit my teeth, all patience gone
And leap from off my railing-home
Four hours late and this time
No excuse.

"I'm sorry, babe, I overslept
Rough night, you know the sort."
That's what I'll get
Whenever you decide to call me back.
But I won't answer
Not this time
This time you missed
The last, last train
This time it's you
Who's left with empty tracks.

Dear Merady

Copyright © by Trey Ebony Ravencrest, July 10, 2000

dear merady;
I fell into your room three nights ago hung
from the ceiling and crawled down the wall
like a bat.
there was a moment
as my foot touched your bed
where I almost remembered your surname.
I walked to the floor clutching a plastic spade and dug
dug a hole through your skin of photographs
and couldn't get back out.
there's a cat down here
says his name's anarchy or sox but can't quite recall which
let alone who I should be.
he told me this is where all the people go
the people clichéd as loved and lost and now
I'm too afraid to call for help
in case someone hears.
this is why I write to you.
I found your address on the back of my hand and knew
from my fourth birthday
you were behind me
in the corner of my eye
in the reflection of the cooker top.
here I am the only photo frame in a living rock of faces
our bodies forgetting how to touch and merely looking
staring
sliding over each other in negative films of glossy loneliness.
dear merady
I fell into your room three nights ago
and cannot get back out.
not on one wing.

Trey Ebony Ravencrest's e-mail address is unavailable.

Click here for a list of all of Trey Ebony Ravencrest's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.