Pulling Shades
by Carrie Hunter
I am always told,
I look "good,"
In red,
The walls are gold,
As songbirds awaken,
Auburn as they exhaust,
Themselves with each other,
My infidelities transpire,
Within cavernous echoes of,
The Earths committed pirouette,
A world sized orb,
Of steam flood light,
Settled upon,
My Velcro brothel,
Of give and take,
Idle dust digits,
Carnivorous fingers,
Sever themselves,
Root weave indistinctly,
From my caution,
Stumble their heavy traipse,
Among telephone wire trough,
Confused tangle imposed upon,
Smooth duck quill branch,
Cord of your spine,
Sting salt splash,
Of lazy pond water cool,
Captured in halted stratosphere,
Against tea kettle hot,
Regenerated beneath,
Moth wing linens,
The hiding basement dark,
Growing static weeds,
Through the oiled lilt,
Gothic cathedral flicker,
Of stained glass lamp shade,
I seek the taught spring,
Cages of Ovid,
Harbored,
Between rolling vertebrae crest,
To be drawn like butter,
Spasmed toward lava flow palms,
Pulsed in an artery of starlight,
Shaped by suns conceited stretch,
Then silk strand falling.
Carrie Elizabeth Hunter is 37 years old and currently living in Portsmouth N.H. She is a graduate of Southampton College of Long Island University. She has had some formal training as a writer and has been writing poetry and short stories since the age of nineteen. Until now, she has never taken the thought of having her work published with any formality. However, a piece of her work was recently published in the online April issue of the Esthetic Apostle. Currently, she is involved in a trial battling a terminal form of breast cancer. Her fiance, family and wayward cat Anya have all encouraged her to keep writing.
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