I have no real identity.
I exist only on paper - A flat, 2-dimensional stick figure.
I have no viscera.
Nothing churns in me - no lust, no rage.
I am content to lie on my page
And occasionally whisper in your ear:
Float, float with me here.
Here where there is no illness or sin,
     in the abstract whiteness of potential

© 2006 Rochelle Hope Mehr

When it Ends

Does it end in a flash
or an umbilicus of doubt
Are we liberated
or crushed asunder in the abyss
 
What assonance
after a paraffin lifetime of sealing wax
and the watch fire of candles
candles tenuous
candles tenuto
candles tainted
candles engraved
candles brave
candles grave

© 2006 Rochelle Hope Mehr

Rejection

You might as well take my poem
For that is the best part of me:
 
The ripe part I suffer to ache.
The part that cleaves yearning to break...

© 2006 Rochelle Hope Mehr

Originally appeared in
Improvijazzation Nation