i want you to fold me up
and put me away
make me two or three inches shorter
so i might latch onto your vigourous lungs
and breathe with you
like a helpless marsupial
but when we fuck in the woods
i sometimes fantasize
that you are a fugitive slave
all sinew and doggish teeth
and i'm just poor white trash
with pleading eyes.
-i'm sorry.
you don't deserve it.
you're perfect.
your tongue swells, yeast-thick
and tasting of mollasses-
the etched lines in your palms now filled with topsoil.
your love is completely self-denying.
the strength of your kindness cripples me.
the forest has grown pitch-black
and as you take my hand
to navigate blindly towards the road,
all i can seem to do is complain
about a lost pink sock, and my skinned knee.
Comments
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hey, little red riding hood; you might want to check the spelling of "mollasses"
love the image of the tongue having risen to thickness, bloated by chemical reactions and time
I may be missing something, but the ending is a bit disappointing, only because I've come to expect so much from your poems, and also having been set up by that bizarre first stanza. The first tWo stanzas are wonderful, and, were it mine, I would be tempted to end this after - you don't deserve it - and find a decent title.
I've run out of ways to tell you what a remarkable writer I think you are, so from now on, when you see the following word, remember: POPCORN
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seriously. this is so beautiful. second and last stanza fucking killed. so glad you posted a new one.
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hannah there are no fucking words.
<33333
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last two lines
i think i've lived something like that
i want to be folded up and put away too
smaller than i already am
neatly tucked into a jasmine scented drawer
second stanza..with the apology
poignant - captures a feeling i have never quite been able to put my finger on, and captures it beautifully.
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