I have an ember, soft and green,
that lights this windblown palace.
An urn for stars, a cup
to share your mouth, only at my word.
I shall stand and strike the spark.
The flint skips a beat.
The dry leaves crack,
as an unwelcome wind
cools the stone.
In the palm of my hand
its lacklustre eye
steals the shine
of my own.
– Lock the door, I say. Something is amiss.
But it is you by the door,
before I could weave the condition,
the refrain.
– Don’t touch that cup, I say.
You reply with a voice
so weak, so timid,
I need you now.
You say with my voice,
I need you now,
and drink for us.
The flint turns to putty
in my hand.
What magic this love,
as the urn gives birth
to a new constellation
–
Richard Ballon has had poetry published in: Social Anarchism, St. Anthony Messenger, Changing Men, Onionhead, Fellowship in Prayer, Fag Rag, Visions International, The Haight Ashbury Review, Poetpourri, Zuzu’s Petals, The Lilliput Review and many other literary journals. He has had monologues published in The Caterpillar Chronicles and The Good Ear Review. The Estrogenius Festival included two of his monologues in their 2008 Collection. Richard’s theatre work in NYC has been at The Estrogenius Festival, Stage Left’s: Women at Work, MamaDrama, and Left Out Festivals, EAT’s One Man Talking, One Woman Standing. Other work at Universal Theatre, Provincetown, Devanaughn Theatre, Boston, Dylan Thomas Festival, Chicago, Walking the Wire Festival, Iowa City, Inspirato Festival, Toronto, Black Box Festival, Honolulu, ArtHotel, Montreal, Asphalt Shorts, Kitchener. He is a member of the Dramatist’s Guild.
–
hyacinth noir 