Poetry & Photography by Eileen Albrizio





The poems below are from Albrizio's book, "Messy on the Inside"

EXPOSED
an English Sonnet

I watched you as you peeled away my skin
and felt the rush of air across each nerve.
You started slowly underneath my chin.
The angle made it awkward to observe
Then with a sudden wrench betrayed my chest,
and blood spurt up into my mouth and eyes.
Through stinging tears I saw my blurry breast,
the tissue ripped. My heart heaved in surprise
from its ubrupt encounter with the world,
unable to conceal its frantic beat.
The fluid in my veins raced through and swirled
into my brain then dropped into my feet.
Repulsed, you left me in my vertigo
exposing what I did not want to show.

A GLIMPSE
a pantoum

I see you're a bit messy on the inside
the way the blinds hang crooked in your window.
Through every aperture escapes a bright white light,
but for the cinderblock-sized openings below.

The way the blinds hang crooked in your window
allows a glimpse of a long pale southern wall.
But for the cinderblock-sized openings below
I catch a lot of you. The way the shadows fall

allows a glimpse of a long pale southern wall.
A lonely frame hangs not quite in the center.
I catch a lot of you. The way the shadows fall
is inviting, but I'm still afraid to enter.

A lonely frame hangs not quite in the center.
The subject dark with no details from where I stand
is inviting, but I'm still afraid to enter.
The suggestion of a chair, books, movement and

the subject dark with no details from where I stand.
I see you're a bit messy on the inside.
The suggestion of a chair, books, movement and
through every aperture escapes a bright white light.

A CHILD'S FALL
a villanelle

I remember falling to my knees,
pulled by your hand to pray around the bed.
You wept for him. I didn't say a word.

He was the son impossible to please,
though your efforts were immense, still he fled.
I remember falling to my knees,

throwing a tantrum that you never heard.
Burdened by my life you wished me dead.
You wept for him. I didn't say a word.

As a daughter I never could appease
your anguish over losing him, instead
I remember falling to my knees,

weak from the loss of blood, my vision blurred.
"What a selfish little girl", you said.
You wept for him. I didn't say a word.

Inflamed by my affection and my pleas,
You snapped and slapped my face and shook your head.
I remember falling to my knees.
You wept for him. I didn't say a word.
PRETTY GIRLS

Men don't like pretty girls who smoke
or swears that fall from a pretty girl's tongue.
Parents don't like it when pretty girls joke
about politics, sex or the plight of the young.
Teachers don't like it when pretty girls won't
let them favor them, touch them a time or two.
I know what not, and what pretty girls don't.
But I still don't know what ugly girls do.

Brothers hurt pretty sisters who steal Mother's love.
Fathers hurt pretty daughters who look like their wives,
who are pretty no more, but are memories of
a time when they all lived prettier lives.
Girls resent pretty girls who tease and taunt
with thighs that are pretty and breasts that are too.
I know what they loathe and what pretty girls want.
But I still don't know what ugly girls do.

Young boys are afraid of a kiss or a touch
from a pretty young girl whose lips and caresses
remind him of his mother's too much.
Some pretty young boys don pretty pink dresses.
They're pretty young girls in the way they behave,
Wearing a gender that's pretty and true.
I know what they fear and what pretty boys crave.
But I still don't know what ugly girls do.

Pretty girls laugh in ugly girl faces.
They point out your flaws and your ugly girl traits.
They cut you to size so you know where your place is.
A pretty girl tells you you're all that she hates
and would surely carry out the feat
of killing herself if she looked like you.
I know who they are, and how pretty girls cheat.
But I still don't know what ugly girls do.



all angel photographs and poetry copyright Albrizio 1998
angel photographs are not included in the book



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or simple write to:
eileenrain@aol.com



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