CHRISTINE
Again,
Again,
Again,
Until it's all I can hear
From your stained lips.
"Kiss me again,
Hold me again,
Hit her again."
And so I do
Again,
Again,
And again,
Until the word loses meaning
And I lose feeling in my arms and hands.
I hadn't realized the cold through all the screaming.
Her blood turns the snow into soup
And I dare to dream of the taste.
My jacket, once yellow, is now red as well.
But you, smart you, wore Black.
The only way to know of the blood is to touch you.
But if I touch you, I might also turn red.
The word was RUN which consists of two legs and a body.
All of which I can't find right now.
But you're running,
So maybe I'm running too.
The woods begin to call my name.
"Christine!!" they hollow, and "Christine!!" they rot.
How do they know who I am?
Unless it's not the trees and it is you,
My black blood beauty,
Who is calling.
So I gathered my body and shot it at your voice.
If I had sanity or sense, I'd know I wasn't a bullet and that you weren't hurt,
But that sound we made colliding could pass for gunfire any day.
We fell and I kicked us into a tumble.
Grasping at you,
Pulling you in so close, we were me, and us you.
Don't you see? In the laws of man, we do not reside.
Two angels simply passing by.
We could hear the roaring of the lake
As we tumbled further.
You pulling me close with all your might.
"It's like witchcraft, you see.
If we sink, we are evil, and God can have his way with us,
But if we survive, the world is truly ours."
Clare Toohey reads "Christine":
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Aig'ner confesses: "I woke up in the middle of my apartment with a pen in my hand and ink on my bed. I was driven to write out the confession or memory of a murder, having finished a weekend of teen girl murder movies with Heavenly Creatures, based on the actions of Pauline Parker and Juliet Hulme, or as she is now known, Anne Perry."
AIG'NER WILSON lives in Olympia, Washington but is originally from the Jersey Shore. She works as a quasi-librarian at Goodwill, spending most of her days swimming through tons of books. "Christine" is her first published poem.
2 comments:
This is an amazing work. I love how it seems to spiral down the page falling ultimately into the murky lake. Fav passage:
"Unless it's not the trees and it is you,
My black blood beauty,
Who is calling." Beautiful and terrifying.
Clare Toohey's reading is outstanding. It gave me the chills. Gonna give it another listen now.
Thanks so much. It kinda felt like I was falling into the lake while writing it, I could fell myself tumbling down the slope while my pen ran down the page. She does a fantastic job at reading and I love the way she says the last line.
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