Black

It was a black day
and it was a BLACK day
I, the newly widowed
clothed in blackbird feathers
Shining like a mirror
reflecting fallacies
not faces
Swathes of blackish sorrow
consumed my
eiderdown of grief
Whilst collective tears
pooling
at my crushed stiletto feet
like seas of emotional
effluent
How many truly cry
when others
snivel in consolation?

*

Coffins muffle the
sonority of
grieving mouths
Damping down the
exaggerated pulse of
blood red hearts
Barriers to paradise lost
remind the dead
not to breathe
For death is
breath without lungs
and mortality is life
without living

*

We didn’t have a church
for you would turn
in your fire-ash not-grave
Phoenix smiting from
the flames
the Godly fallacy
Singing godless psalms
of Elbow
and Eva Cassidy
I wished I’d listened
to your heart
for the reggae in your soul
I painted on my face
of have no feelings
Cherry lips set in
a rigor mortis pout
Spider eyes kept dry by
waterproof mascara
Emotion
Emotion
Emotion
Less

*

And my love is
ash
I am married to
a brown plastic urn
And the wedding rings
don’t fit anymore
Me with my
disconsolate finger
You with your hands
busy playing harps
in Heaven

©2020 Sarah Drury

Apart

Apart

It is a sad day
When the death knell tolls
When two hearts must part
Ripped out of alabaster ribs
With a gut wrench fist
For the sake of muffled lips
And clackety tongued convention

It is a sad day
When I say goodbye
to a love who never was in bloom
I never picked your rose
Just gazed upon a fearful bud
whose petals curled and sighed
in fearful rumination

It is a sad day
When voices fail to
sing our songs of truth
Chrysalis consumes the butterfly
Wings of trepidation
soaring in a universe of
haves and have nots

We have not

©2020 Sarah Drury

Pride

PRIDE

When I was a child
girls stole sugar kisses on boys’ muddy lips
Champagne toasts to wedded men and women
My friends all had mothers and fathers
even if they didn’t know them
My storybooks were full of handsome princes
kissing apple-lipped maidens
Pages after pages were bullshit laden
And the TV was full of girls with boys
and happy-ever-after heterosexuality
And that was the myth of sexuality
Back in the day

We hurled around ‘insults’ that our mates were lesbos
And the lads were gay
But we didn’t realise we were buying into
a system of bitter prejudice and discrimination
Witch hunts, gay shaming and condemnation
and I never thought that one day
I would be ‘them’

We never saw two female lips entwined in a loving kiss
or two males in a passionate embrace
Now it is still a spectacle
consigned to its own sordid category
a ‘perverted disgrace’
The older generation still hushly whisper
‘ooo he’s gay you know’ and oppose the notion
of gay adoption and media exposure
God forbid the media give their viewing a promotion
They still feel queasy to the stomach
when they see that love is not just
boy meets girl

I am glad we now live in a generation where
love is becoming less monochrome
Where the lgbt community can live a life less secluded and alone
And rainbows fill a sky of potential
for love and acceptance to prosper
Gay is becoming more mainstream
And we don’t cower ashamedly in molehills anymore

So why do I live life in a masquerade ball?
Partially disguised
Why so long to free myself from my trap of conventionality?
For the sake of convention and congeniality
I was caught up for years in the boy-girl story
Of the prince and princess happy ever after
Now I am awake and still feel the stigma
The sting of years of expectation
Like a queen in a PRIDE parade
Saying fuck you to the hetero charade
and wearing my mask
when I truly want to be
exposed and naked

©2020 Sarah Drury

Dancing With Dead Men

True story. Eight years ago I had a really bad manic episode where I became seriously psychotic. I fell in love with a spiritual teacher in America and this whole make believe relationship evolved. In my head he had magical powers. I would hear him talking to me and feel him making love to me. It was so real. But I was so poorly.

I could feel you, my love
But they said you weren’t there
They said it was all in my head
I was unwell
You were one I lived and breathed for
I was dancing with the dead
Mind wide open
Eyes wide shut
Fucking a man who lived in my psyche
Like some kind of rapturous, spiritualist slut
That the churches hate but the devil likes

Relationships are not easy
Maybe I needed someone to hold me
Someone to tell me it was ok
That I was ok
Some full on physical contact
To caress my lonely flesh
To satisfy me the way only
My lonely, aching soul knows best
You were half of my soul
A twin flame
You breathed in another continent
But your lungs belonged here
You had your spiritual fame
New Age spouting from a magnetic mouth
And for all of this shit you put the blame
On me
On my fifty shades of all kinds of crazy

I believed that through enchanted eyes
You watched me
You shifted the laws of the universe
To be with me
You spoke to me in my telepathy head
In stereotypical, happy storybook endings
Through some kind of
Screwed up mystical internet

Then I crashed like a game of Jenga
Tears of fear and desperation
Blown around like dandelion seeds
In a Salvador Dali surrealist creation
Trying to hold on
But my grip on reality was too weak
And my hands, my poor, weak hands

And then
I couldn’t feel you
My heart was beating solo
My mind had sunk so fucking low
They said it was all in my head
Take these pills they’ll sort you out
They said
And within four weeks
You were dead
To me

©2020 Sarah Drury

Oedipus

CAUTION – EXPLICIT

Oedipus

You’d had a three in the bed you said
You smelled of expensive whiskey
If I’d have taken a match to you
You’d have burned in Hell
I loved you
But I didn’t love your insensitive mouth
When it ran with tales of sex and indiscretion
Of screwing whores and adultery
You must have fucked the telephone directory
Or be bullshitting

I fell into your trap
Sitting for hours online spouting utter crap
About how we’d make such sweet, sweet love
Insanely when we met
Had I slept with any women
But never wanting to know whether
I’d fucked any sexy men
Maybe you were just jealous
Or threatened

We skipped the light fandango
Took foolish risks
Burning sheets alight with red hot sex
I never liked a penis
But it was all part of the thing with men
A soulless blow job
Was part of the meal deal
Cucumber when you’re partial to peaches

You never hid any of your other seedy conquests
You relished in detailing the bitter facts
How Annie in Dublin had the perfect pussy
And you’d taken the perfect picture
To commemorate the perfect fucking fuck
And what was I supposed to do?
Get on my feet and applaud?

I don’t know why I always went for older guys
Maybe I saw in you a patriarch
Maybe the lines on your face promised me
A map of my heart
Some may say it was Oedipal
But I wouldn’t know
I have no memories
Of my father

©2020 Sarah Drury