Poem: "Ricochet" Shannon/Charlie/Sayid [Lost]
Title: Ricochet
Character/s: Shannon/Charlie/Sayid, Boone
Rating: PG
A/N: For Queen
themoononastick. May it bring her pleasure. *bows to the Queen*
~~~~~~~
Ricochet
“These particles do not resile but they unite after they collide”
I. The Sun
Lazy heat basking
long hours spent absorbing
sunshine and conversations.
Pedicures and clothing changes;
a deliberate theatrical performance,
she wishes for a costumer
with talented hands
and a better wardrobe.
Shannon hates compromises.
She’s never liked working with less.
Denial is easy,
deflection and rescue
for her brighter half.
She pushes;
Boone turns away.
His back vanishing
brings relief.
My mistake -
words that will never
brush her lips,
but satisfaction
while back-handed,
still protects.
Low continual thunder,
water battering shore
continual roll and roar
clears her thoughts.
Shannon hasn’t felt this sharp in years.
Honed thin,
she doesn’t recognize this razor
almost.
Edges:
Brief fishing
a catch claimed, and flaunted
that was all the warning he needed,
all the warning they required.
She is left
to the sun
to the sand
to do what is necessary,
what is vital but remains unseen.
She stretches out
exposing more skin to sun
And sharpens her smile.
II. The Moon
Diminished third…
rudderless without strings
beneath his hands
Charlie wrapped and wrote,
black on white,
exercises in elementary
simplification.
His math skills remain poor.
Has he ever been more than a satellite?
More than a reflection of fire,
More than a mirror?
Charlie is a watcher by nature.
He was told he must act,
stand firm in sunlight
when the shadows are more kind
and he listened.
Charlie was used to listening
then.
Malleable,
easily shaped in heat,
in the solar flare of charisma,
he bowed his head and accepted.
The bass chord
is foundation, scaffolding stacked
with song and singer strut,
a cornerstone laid.
Nothing can be built without its measure.
But Charlie doesn’t want
to be grounded- he wants more.
Diminished third,
Charlie leans against
the tree trunk shadowed
and watches-
blonde hair leaning in,
almost touching
interweaving with
curls of black.
White page,
black bars-
the song unwritten.
Charlie watches, hums.
His fingers twitch,
tap against bark.
A pen would bring a temporary fix.
III. Earth
Action measures his days,
action and certainty.
He refuses to careen,
to let events hold sway
over direction.
Sayid will chart his own course.
Decisions are made,
held firm in a sure grip
and he moves forward.
Always forward.
This is what the day sees,
what watchers know.
In the black
he runs choices through his hands,
rubbing the texture of a thousand regrets
against each remembered misstep.
Sayid abandoned prayer, but can’t shake ritual.
Rub of beach stones against
click
collide-
lives knocking up
against each other,
breaking,
cracking corners and straight edges.
Shadows want
to swallow him up-
deep green turns to black
with his solitary passage
even at noon.
Undergrowth rustle
whispers, an almost chant
mocking him with steadfast litany.
Ever practical, Sayid knows
when he must cleave to flame.
Ever practical
he ignores this heart
with lyrics muffled;
there is no audience
prepared to hear a warrior’s lament,
list of atrocity
leavened with unexpected grace.
Bright and willing
to soak up the day’s embrace,
darkness gleaming in her gaze.
Shannon is perfect…
And their dance is easy,
Partnered by an attentive shadow.
IV. The Sun at Solstice
Shannon has always carried hunger,
a gaping silent abyss
beneath her skin.
She knows
toothsome bite and maw.
Fists clenched
Shannon shrieks
her keening for the devoured dead
lost in final engine whine.
She can see teeth marks
Scar tissue has never hidden
Treasure from her sight.
Boone vanishes,
like mercury on skin
his tether cut
he’s eaten up
by the jungle.
Sayid is a dancer
Gait educated and sure
punctuated with a measured bow.
He captures darkness
Between molar and canine.
Charlie is music
Manifest, tap and thrum
Hooded gaze cloaked
In shadow and distance.
Shannon understands
the responsibilities of ownership.
And she knows
how to use a blade
to everyone’s advantage.
Character/s: Shannon/Charlie/Sayid, Boone
Rating: PG
A/N: For Queen
themoononastick. May it bring her pleasure. *bows to the Queen*
~~~~~~~
Ricochet
“These particles do not resile but they unite after they collide”
I. The Sun
Lazy heat basking
long hours spent absorbing
sunshine and conversations.
Pedicures and clothing changes;
a deliberate theatrical performance,
she wishes for a costumer
with talented hands
and a better wardrobe.
Shannon hates compromises.
She’s never liked working with less.
Denial is easy,
deflection and rescue
for her brighter half.
She pushes;
Boone turns away.
His back vanishing
brings relief.
My mistake -
words that will never
brush her lips,
but satisfaction
while back-handed,
still protects.
Low continual thunder,
water battering shore
continual roll and roar
clears her thoughts.
Shannon hasn’t felt this sharp in years.
Honed thin,
she doesn’t recognize this razor
almost.
Edges:
Brief fishing
a catch claimed, and flaunted
that was all the warning he needed,
all the warning they required.
She is left
to the sun
to the sand
to do what is necessary,
what is vital but remains unseen.
She stretches out
exposing more skin to sun
And sharpens her smile.
II. The Moon
Diminished third…
rudderless without strings
beneath his hands
Charlie wrapped and wrote,
black on white,
exercises in elementary
simplification.
His math skills remain poor.
Has he ever been more than a satellite?
More than a reflection of fire,
More than a mirror?
Charlie is a watcher by nature.
He was told he must act,
stand firm in sunlight
when the shadows are more kind
and he listened.
Charlie was used to listening
then.
Malleable,
easily shaped in heat,
in the solar flare of charisma,
he bowed his head and accepted.
The bass chord
is foundation, scaffolding stacked
with song and singer strut,
a cornerstone laid.
Nothing can be built without its measure.
But Charlie doesn’t want
to be grounded- he wants more.
Diminished third,
Charlie leans against
the tree trunk shadowed
and watches-
blonde hair leaning in,
almost touching
interweaving with
curls of black.
White page,
black bars-
the song unwritten.
Charlie watches, hums.
His fingers twitch,
tap against bark.
A pen would bring a temporary fix.
III. Earth
Action measures his days,
action and certainty.
He refuses to careen,
to let events hold sway
over direction.
Sayid will chart his own course.
Decisions are made,
held firm in a sure grip
and he moves forward.
Always forward.
This is what the day sees,
what watchers know.
In the black
he runs choices through his hands,
rubbing the texture of a thousand regrets
against each remembered misstep.
Sayid abandoned prayer, but can’t shake ritual.
Rub of beach stones against
click
collide-
lives knocking up
against each other,
breaking,
cracking corners and straight edges.
Shadows want
to swallow him up-
deep green turns to black
with his solitary passage
even at noon.
Undergrowth rustle
whispers, an almost chant
mocking him with steadfast litany.
Ever practical, Sayid knows
when he must cleave to flame.
Ever practical
he ignores this heart
with lyrics muffled;
there is no audience
prepared to hear a warrior’s lament,
list of atrocity
leavened with unexpected grace.
Bright and willing
to soak up the day’s embrace,
darkness gleaming in her gaze.
Shannon is perfect…
And their dance is easy,
Partnered by an attentive shadow.
IV. The Sun at Solstice
Shannon has always carried hunger,
a gaping silent abyss
beneath her skin.
She knows
toothsome bite and maw.
Fists clenched
Shannon shrieks
her keening for the devoured dead
lost in final engine whine.
She can see teeth marks
Scar tissue has never hidden
Treasure from her sight.
Boone vanishes,
like mercury on skin
his tether cut
he’s eaten up
by the jungle.
Sayid is a dancer
Gait educated and sure
punctuated with a measured bow.
He captures darkness
Between molar and canine.
Charlie is music
Manifest, tap and thrum
Hooded gaze cloaked
In shadow and distance.
Shannon understands
the responsibilities of ownership.
And she knows
how to use a blade
to everyone’s advantage.