scrape the thigh. stray arrows pierce the gullet. she watches. eyes closed. skin stretched flat. funerals on if. pissing loudly. into empty toilets. all of the elegant poisons that embellish life. traced in shit.
the foul art of waiting for change to recognize us.
pull the zipper. knot the thread. the edge of the world getting too close.
the decimal misplaced. numbers rogue with skin. the fractions frantic as we reach to touch the dwindling pieces.
the expanding forest. growing faster than we can map. the instinct to stay lost stronger than the one to find. young once and never again. led out in the world and abandoned there. empty rifles. waiting on bullets.
lambs and lions slipping into bed.
Stitches fib. That the fissure is repaired. Knots pull on the needles. Fraying threads chase the skin. Until we are small enough. And all these angles can breathe again.
The petty tyranny of nerves. the brave rebellion of flesh. quiet wars getting louder.
Wednesday
8/29/2012 12:43:00 AM
| Life Poems |