AND SO I smashed the antique vanity mirror today
you know, the one I received on our wedding day
(passing by that thing always gave me the chills)
I used my knuckles for the first hard blow,
followed by my claws for more blood to flow
(the sting was just beautifully excruciating)
I tore off each shard patiently from my skin,
I sobbed with my
her lips like a siren's tone - by ocean-whispers, literature
Literature
her lips like a siren's tone -
her lips like a siren's tone --
i can hear her thirst for language
through the wetness of her tongue.
she is cold sweat during nevada nights
goosebumps on minnesotan mornings
with crisp phrases like crumpling paper and
sharp edges cutting through a poet's cliche.
the day before:
your lip's crevices cup the kisses i sneak you,
knocked about and splashing in and out,
my ever-filling love sinks into each gap.
we touch fingertips like the first and last time
and pretend that tomorrow doesn't exist.
but i recognize that we are playing a waiting game.
airplanes and flat tires, we are always trying to go
somewhere. the sun is in our eyes and we are often
lost, but we use the stars to find one another.
the day after:
the wind blows through the trees and i feel your warmth
through my window screen. i patch up the rips with
scotch tape and notice that each mend connects to form
a leaf.
and then i remem
watching madmen (and)
eating fresh kills
in the dark
picking the carcass apart
my hands
halves of a euphemism
the raw start of symbolism
hearts unharmed
are poems
unwritten