the math knows her. the arithmetic of her skin. in subtle additions. and silent subtractions. the knots are cinched. frail colors bleed. soft winds confess. a tremor of choices. tilt the machine. a deluge of decisions map the darkness.
the numbers solving for us. the axis and the angle narrowed. to compensate for the weakness of gravity.
her tired needle. surrenders its stitches. the holes are too big.
breathe. chew. swallow.
the meat is all we are. the bones are just crutches.
taste. spit. choke.
the hunger is the sum of us. the suffering is the ratio.
soft tornadoes spill through her veins. life. in stabbing locks and tearing glass. no blood. just the hum of traffic. as the road scurries under foot. gentle suicides fill in their outlines. the art of dying. in mortar and brick. uneven walls submit to the wind. willing to fall.
paper skin and clay skeletons. give too much.
Saturday
7/20/2013 12:05:00 AM
| Life Poems |