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3 poems by Samantha Seto

6/18/2013

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Picture
Taste of Summer

I. The blackberries ooze in the sunlight
honey taste ripe at this pond of water lilies.
I hear the birds chirping and the grasses sway.

I run among wildflowers, breathe in a linen scent,
free pulse of adrenaline rushes ahead of me,
my prairie skirt flows with the brush of wind,
lingers in the memory of sunrise.

II. I wash my callused, chalky hands in 
brown water basin, my pilgrim dress stained.
Olive oil mixes with soup from steam,
breadbaskets line the laced tables.
I hear the cook in the busy kitchen holler 
at beaten maids, weary weighing them down.

I light a match in the dark timber at fireplace,
a few candles to eat supper in this evening.
But I feel like a slave chained to this ground.


Purple Veil

My lipstick rolls under the wooden table,
I shield my eyes against the glittering lavender.
The veil trails behind me, dragging on the floor,
I dream of a funeral trance as I walk in sunlight.

Purple lineage streams down like a 
water fountain over my hair. 
Striped orange clothing in a chair,
big yellow button holds seams at center.

Scripted in a secret mess, it was sewn, 
crafthand of time and work inscribes 
signs of its origins, circling the rough fabric,
unrepeated lilacs and indigo, silver beads.

Rhythmic strides to an open window, 
I gaze at the sun through my covering.
In the blanked purple carpet, my heart beats,
I breathe a lasting scent that lets me stay


Page-Turner

The fabric around me: my thighs, fingers, hipbones.
Crashing to the ground, I let my hair loose in the dirt.
Only this time, I was the fair maiden.

Winding my body around to fix myself,
the position of the girl is out of my reach.
My loose hair has knarls and dirt in tangles,
my eyes as crystal as the river.

I clean my skin at the riverbank,
my face is a chalky white amongst evergreens.
The light collects deep shades of shadow
while overhead a round-eyed sky
never blinks but stares blindly in blue.

Photographs in black-and-white reveal 
inner beauty of the other girl, not me.
Until the moon casts darkness in trees,
its thousand changes burning into one.
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