Lies and Other Truths

The cold still lingers, but here's my most recent poem....


Your lies float in the air
stretch, expand,
a black cloud that spills secrets
if I ask nicely.

You say I'm delusional.
and wave a black wand,
strap on a dark cape.
A magician, with an
audience of one, but

her legs hang
from your cloud, dear,
despite all of your trickery.
Tanned legs.
Slut-red toenails with
sling pumps dangling,
your head hid
in her spread thighs.

Fingers turning to salt,
I run to where Dali
waits on my mantlepiece.
He tells stories of days
before time melted
and bent out of shape,
days when I still
thought you were my Candyman.
Your tongue not yet forked.
My illusions intact.

Pris Campbell
(c)2005