Poems by Nancy Coscione


My fear is the fear of being seen.
I'm rendered immobile,
Frozen still.
Afraid I'll see through your eyes.
The truth,
Naked, ugly, skinned alive.

My fear is the fear of not being seen.
Left forever to my personal darkness.
Places fetid, hot chaotic.
Your eyes see only the surface.
My flesh.
That which is kept in check.

My fear is the fear of seeing.
Blinking against the light.
Searing brilliance,
Harsh and real.
Your reality.
The sounds painful to my eyes.

My fear is the fear of not seeing.
Eyes veiled by smoke,
Sickly sweet.
Created by me.
Gagging on the denial
Which keeps me firmly in place.


There is lying exposed,
Red and blue veined, glossy, warm.
First beating, now fluttering-shuddering.
My hands drip life's blood onto the floor
Where it blooms exquisite jewels.
Rubies, garnets, carnelian, jet.
My eyes, deep imploring inkspots,
Seek you acknowledgment, your honesty.
My skin, white, growing white, becomes taut.
Becomes perfectly translucent
Indicating the delicate network of bone and muscle.
My earthly self.
NOW! At this moment I sink
With uncanny slow grace to the floor.
My hands remain extended to you
My beautiful love.
As my blue-white lids close on my
Now black holes,
My lips part in one last
Quivering sigh.
You gasp! At last understanding.


Small screw hole
Punched below my left breast.
The fluid seeping forth,
Warm, blackish.
Do you want to taste it with your tongue?
Or simply observe the soft flow,
Rapt with my state of beauty.


The stump of my pinkie
Its smooth roundness, lovely
In the light of fluorescence,
A thing quite erotic,
Inviting, mysterious,
The result of resolving
A long buried truth...
My teeth ache with memory.


I wove into the bushes.
The weaving was gentle,
Intricate, multi-textured.
I pulled first with each hand,
Followed by feet.
The sticky strands held tight.
My enmeshment became
Became a weaving
I was forever entangled