Kristen de Kline - #59 - Plastic Linda from Coburg returns

you thought you'd killed her off
Plastic Linda from Coburg
you thought she'd shaken wavered trembled
     broken cog.    faulty engine.
till finally
she'd burnt, raged against the light,
       malfunctioned

maybe you'd cut a neat incision
in her delicate, veined neck
      and you couldn't remember
the cutting blood neck
only her delicacy, the bulging blue veins,
      tensing up, waiting for
your slow hand
     and you couldn't remember

Plastic Linda from Coburg breathes softly over your flesh
traces out the poems where postcards
are penned from the
      asylum,
the harbour
     breathes,
and long cream curtains
hang from rods
like a coma ...
pages of poems wavering
     hesitating
not going
     gently into dying lights or good nights  

it had been two and a half weeks
you hadn't slept eaten showered
but Plastic Linda from Coburg
lined you up in her sights,
her spinning white plastic blades
rattling, slapping the side of
     your face
her breath caressing
     your flesh
something (life? morning breaking?)
     stirring within you without you