Saturday, June 24, 2006

The Highlands at Brighton III


Each person who enters
changes the room:

moves the netted curtain
exposing me to view

leaves the closed door open
tugs the heavy wingback seat askew

sniffs my air, exhales their scent
stabs quiet, braying empty news

lowers safety rails
moves bags away from easy reach

narrows the tight path
I must wheel through


In the Bollywood flick

my neurologist, Kruthavanti

would doctor the plump rich

marry a gorgeous unhappy someone

be tormented by some dusty village

secret, how he got away, how he is

tethered to a struggling past

his wriggling sack of bones

clanks in broomclosets,

file cabinets, washrooms

He pricks my insensate legs

with splintered toothpicks,

hammers unmoving knees

cheerlessly, chucks my chin

aside from his stethoscope

that my patient breath not soil

inquiry, then rushes to wash

again and again and again,

hands which never touched me,


Akua Lezli Hope

Saturday, June 03, 2006

I still walk in dream

I still walk in dream
my firm calves whisper
they’ve been somewhere
some near flesh body
works the way it always
did, without thought or pain
no tears water cracked flesh,
wrinkled toes blush and bloom
with blood that moves
all tiny cries of hot sandpaper streams,
hiss of lava lines and itchy lightning bolts
quiet in moving muscles,
signals that transmit
my long full thigh
piston pumping stride
without machine without wheels
feet meet ground and lift off
lift up. if you see her
walking down your street
tell her to rejoin me
it’s my turn again

Akua Lezli Hope