Catherine the Great

by Paul - Libra

Catherine the Great,
three doors down,
second floor,
screaming to wake the street
with her grand hysteria.

Breathing,
burning up in an atmosphere
of raw emotion:
incandescence,
white heat,

living out her lost loves,
her ancient pain
off the beaten track of words,
beyond the contraints of
compromise or comprehension;

transmutation of flesh and blood 
into blind rage, raw hate,
nothing in between
mind and matter.

Maybe 
they’ll come and take her away
like they did before.
They’ll need a team with chains
and asbestos gloves
to get her in the wagon.

We listen,
disdainful,
amused,
set in our own confines,
clutching our purse of days,
saving, spending our small change
of fear and dreams,
our lives the grey residue
of hers.

Birth sign: Libra
Date created: 2000-05-25 19:59:58
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:42:17
Poem ID: 56237

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