Poems by Martina Meinster

My Shadow

By the light of a thousand watts,
one thousand units of particular energy,
circling, returning,
projecting, perplexing,
on the white walls of my mind.
He’s there. Where?
“Look behind you!”
He greets me with greyscale cheek,
saluting left
saluting centre
saluting right,
and again.
Summoned by the magic lantern of our modern fears
he sways, it appears,
with the swagger of the Tramp
who flickers still in the vaults of film,
for he too lifts the spirits of the newly depressed
with his silent satire.
I watch him as the white sun turns,
etching peripherally its fiery ellipse,
its afterimage burning on my retina
and glowing in his heart
for he is my partial eclipse,
a jester suggester of mimicry,
the devil that dances on my back.
Until the lights go out.



snow-swept moor
still no thaw
plundered store
nailed up door
on the floor
bed of straw
rabbit’s paw
red and raw
I implore
pleas galore
drunken whore
alive no more


Martina Meinster is an aspiring writer of fun, serious, and erotic poems. Follow her travels at: http://my.secondlife.com/martina.meinster.


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