You slice through wind and rain
Like raven shaded sickles.
My ebony gargoyles,
Yet there is nothing monstrous
About the fine arc you follow as
You flare out into a flattering skirt.
Know that when you're final hour arrives,
And you fall onto my cheek
Like the hand of a gentle lover, your
Departure will be met with elegy.
Black lashes
blown off of a fingerpad that throbs
in tandem with an overharvested eyelid
flit to the floor—
wasted wishes
manufacted in mockery of dandelion's dance.
Keratin cracks
beneath the pressure of enamel,
exposing weak, watery skin
on trembling fingertips—
nervous nibbles
evolved into voracious, cannibalistic cravings.
Though hope
fractures under the weight of repugnant gazes
and my unsightly nubs grasp blindly for pigments to suppress
these habitual shames—
flesh forgives
more than the self, and, like a forest after a fire, it grows back.
It always grows back.
false eyelash frog thought she was marvelously pretty.
She was boring, dull, insipidly predictable, not any way witty.
She put on false eyelashes and wore them all over the pond.
Everyone made fun of her, including the algae and frond.
A hair about a centimetre long!
Was it an eyelash
or a tiny piece of nasal ornamentation
in this library book?
Was it left here by the last borrower?
Or has she - or he -
found it, known it was from
the previous borrower, and ignored it?
How long could eyelash
or nasal hair
remain here on page sixty-five
almost defying its removal?
Or will a librarian happen across this souvenir,
blow it away
before returning the book
to its place on the shelf?
(2 Oct 2023)
Eyelash soup
Get it while you can
It tickles all the way down
It makes you want to move and shout
When you eat two bowls
You get a wild urge to clean
Everything you have never cleaned before
You will move your oven out
Because that is what eyelash soup does for you
Hello, sir, how many bowls do you want?
Get it while it’s hot
It is not every day we make it
Difficult to get eyelashes you know
Eyelash soup
Get it while you can
For your mother and your wife?
What about you, sir?
What about a bowl for you?
Okay, sir, but let me tell you,
It puts a zing in your step that
was never there before.
Six bowls? Sure!
To go or will you be dining in?
I always carefully held the stranded eyelash
Closed my eyes and whispered that one plea
Before blowing on it with all the air in my lungs
Don’t know if my messengers sailed to you
Today I found a thick one as I rubbed my eye
And I tossed it aside
I’m aghast at the response of my fingers because
I still have a plea—
Now that you have him God
Please take good care of my father
Written on:11/04/2016
Contest:'Ten Lines Max' by Brian Strand
You can make a wish when all
Your birthday candles blow.
Shooting stars and wishes are
Another way to go.
A coin tossed in a fountain
Or a wishbone split in two
Are other means that people have
To make a dream come true.
Many, though, are not aware
An eyelash is equipped
To intercept a wish, as well,
As soon as it has slipped.
A famous Seinfeld episode
Portrayed an eyelash war
Where Kramer’s buddy FDR
Kept eyelash-pulling score.
An eyelash wish, however,
Even used with overkill,
Stands the same chance as the others
To come true – and that is nil!
A baby girl cant seem to make out the strand she picked off her chin is an eyelash or a
nostril hair? To wish or not to wish?
...Optimists will say 'wish'. Pessimists will say 'whatever the hell!' ...
I will say:
Tear a nostril hair and an eyelash, compare, the one with least error in
magnitude...consider that one!
As subtle as a breeze
As thin as an eyelash
As timid as a tear
Love reappeared
Although days multiplied
And years doubled
Time cannot degress value
Essence of intimacy
Even though hope embarrased itself
And doubt grew strong
The end's tide came
And caressed the center of my joy
Though subtle as a breeze
And thin as an eyelash
Even timid as a tear
Love reappeared
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