Too hard to pierce


All of them

The girl with Indian eyes, cheekbones you could carve bones with

keeping at bay her true age, she was an enigma, who knew, what stood as

truth and what, fabrication?

The man whose skin wore keloid scars like leopard spots, shone in hairless bald, berated for his soft heart and lack of guile, her other half in male form

The lady with elongation to her soul, her chosen words like prayer, she straightens those who bow to the world in hunched defeat, her strength coming from saving those who are unable to cope as she

in strong upright certainty

The mother, nursing her wounds, stings like an adder, her refusal to explain the cause of her pain, she sharpens instead, the unexpected malice and spits, far and reaching

The father, still playing the field with weary tread, his address book too thick to carry, he remains longing for the girls he didn’t conquer at 20, though they mock him for his thirst and his lupine drool

She knows them all

like reflection they repeat

like a photograph half in, half out

dissolving what is real

she is their friend, they are her stories

but sometimes one climbs off their ship and drowns or throws rocks at her to cast her overboard

she cannot say why

such fickleties exist

but she suspects

in noticing them closely and their histories on repeat

she sets herself apart as the observer

happier tucked watching the sea for land

she has no need to spill her guts or share

her space

she has no need inside her for their chatter and their sea squall

her isolation, her self-sufficiency drives them to

eventual hatred

and like sea birds, hungry in flight, they swoop down and

peck out her eyes


if she cannot see into her words

she will not write them anymore

and like them

she will need

and cleave


but this is not

what ever happens

from her remote outlook

she knows when the yellow bird is near

her eyes are not made of jewels

they come from ancient sea bed, they are granite

too hard to pierce



19 thoughts on “Too hard to pierce

  1. Very good! Enjoyed this on several levels – I remember a young woman many yrs ago worked in the local shop with cheekbones like that, so beautiful, astonishingly so! I think she was from India, but her skin was very light, such piercing eyes. Then I got to thinking about the whole theme you had there, about being an observer, I’m glad her eyes survived intact! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. trE says:

    I like… How this is structured= thick, then thin. I love the flow of the lines; story, then poem. Prose, then poetry. I think this is on my lost of favorites now.

    Exceptional work here. Exceptional.

    Liked by 1 person

    • thefeatheredsleep says:

      Thank you SO MUCH! I posted another poem (on my site) which is more prose-poetry and a bit X-Rated and I was like ‘should i? shouldn’t i?’ but this one, I knew would work for the zeen, although the standard is increasingly high it’s making me sweat!

      Liked by 1 person

    • thefeatheredsleep says:

      This is my official first Mark Renney comment I’m printing this sucker out! Thank you so much talented man, you know coming from you this is manna from heaven. I am so appreciative, you are one whom we all admire.

      Liked by 1 person

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