-
Your soul is a
store-bought metaphor
quivering atop your diaphragm
-
In a row of stone buildings
it is linen we choose to shield us from the storm
-
I chose to lay here in this empty space to experience the lack of you, exposing every follicle and fiber to the chill of your absence
-
We cannot choke on our frustrations
without emphasis
so we will go on waiting for the music
-
I am flammable, disposable, and recyclable
You are lighting your matches
-
It is a sickly yellow-green, a regurgitated tint we
look past in order to recognize the simplest factor
It belongs to us
-
Haven't you drilled these bones enough?
The dust spraying out to gather on the skin
-
I learned something once, but I've forgotten what it was
My trees are thicker than yours, my bark sharper and better smelling
-
The hole your fire burnt into my chest is crusted brown and black around the edges
-
The corners of your mouths were stretched and met at the back of your skull until the enthusiasm spilled from your lips
-
And we take from each other the pieces no one else would
take and dissolve them beneath our tongues.
-
I am face down involuntary, incapable there is gravel sticking to my eyes and dust settling in my lungs
-
We'll bite our unkissed lips and unveil our thighs in pseudo-seductive pleas for more than just pithy unimpressed glances.
-
My stomach has long-since stopped it growling
it has learned to wait with me/for you
-
Our piddly little roundabout ways of connecting
have begun to form a necessity within us.
-
In the beginning you pushed your leaves out through your fingertips and they were brilliant and emerald
-
We have been here before, with you on the other side of the room, our noses pushed against the corners, the boniest, dirtiest of hands over
-
Purgatory nights across the way from Paradise, we skip down the walkways that lead to nowhere
-
The taste of your pain is in my tongue.
And sucking it into my throat
-
We lose it all
and all again
-
Within the shade / of your outstretched branches / gripping bushels / to keep me / from the moonlight and sunlight / of these numbered days
-
And time, this old withered soul
Pulls itself along by the fingernails
-
O the bitter days of frost
Are sailing towards me
-
You were everything once What have you done?
-
Into the shaded trees we fall between branches
A memoria of better days
-
For Sara and all us gals who are waiting for marriage. It'll be worth it.
-
Whose fault is it that this crumbled in our grasps?
Spilling down between our fingers as though we never had a chance
-
And what are you so afraid of?
What is this you've become?
-
Overtake me
Flood my ears with Your words
-
Gasping, I scream out into the fog as hands tear me from solid ground and into the bubbling black brook.
Hate
-
Thick, it floods into her mouth.
Hot, it scorches her eyes.
-
Lie into a bed of grass--fingers intertwined, palms clasped. Meadows bloom around, our lips touch as we breathe each other in.
-
Whose fault is the fire pouring into our city streets?
It billows into our house and home, licking up our wooden walls and blanketing our bedding sheets.
-
Crouched Within a Darkened Corner
I Will Stay Here Awaiting Safety's Return
-
Take your needle and take my hand.
Prick my wrist ever so gently.
|