Sarah Capella Smith Poems

The freezing wind rips raw through my skin.
The sand supports my heavy form
And I couldn’t wait to take the plunge.
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I feel like a fat bird unable to take flight.
Something disturbs the flock.

I have been stripped, strapped and strung,
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I step off the motorway into a castle of white clouds.
The black birds lift out the black bricks in the turrets
Like notes in the perfect score.
Like angles, fairies and cherubs my footsteps are light and bare.
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I walked through my mind last Tuesday;
It was black and passionate, an illustration of suicide.

I was shown the ropes - my thick purple nerves -
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It’s been done before, I know.
But this time I’m speaking, not you.

An anger has unearthed in an icy core.
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A butterfly’s shadow, a delicate darkness -
No relationship can compare such dearness.
The sun rolls on my chest and my heart catches fire.
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Who’s driving this thing?
Is it revenge? Wires or veins?

Sphere, electricity, volts, blue.
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Born on rims and edges.
Inches; the way they spread and weave
A time that cannot be touched.
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A staircase of hardened hearts,
The sea slides over the stones -
A heart underwater;
Big and beautiful.
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Balloons, why do
They burst, like hearts?
Shrivel up, like death?
Or swallow air like
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