two black lizards
sun themselves on the concrete curb
i pass like a cloud
Tag: writer
skin damage (20170329)
we wear each other like second skins
a tight fit in winter and spring
but in summer we peel apart
all too soon one of us is dragged
into the quick
threatening pain
scars
and blood
if freckles were the only damage
if only
kink (20170328)
open me
avail yourself of the best knives
words glances touches
honed sharpened designed to
slice cut sever
make me shudder
make me twitch
drag your tongue hot
across the open wound
cauterize it with your spit
papillae scraping edges wet
knit me
with your purrs
with your moans
close me
a treatise on [fill in the blank] (20170327)
a big fat balloon
found at parties
sometimes red sometimes shiny
telegraphing messages about age
and achievement
taking a deep breath
makes you talk funny
for a while
which is as long as it lasts
until it deflates
floats away
brushes against something sharp
——
trick question (20170326)
a basilisk will hatch
from the egg of a rooster
laid at midnight
during a full moon
venomous and full of spite
it can kill with a single glance
which is to say,
do you have any pictures
of your father
and when were you born?
vocabulary lesson (20170325)
i close my eyes
and the world
spins backwards
maybe five seconds
i hear the goodbye
again
the “eye” syllable
in the air
impossibly physical
bricklike
solid and hot
i close my eyes again
longer
and when i open them
you haven’t said goodbye
not yet
but your lips part
i shut my eyes
but even if i hold them closed
before i was conceived
before my cell split
for the first time
it would do no good
you never said goodbye
after all
it wasn’t a word you knew
benediction (20170324)
this poem was going to
be about me, a really good one
i could feel it in my teeth
the way they ground together
edge to edge, a squeak
before shattering
close so close
if i could remember a word
just one word
i could piece it together
water the seed
watch it grow
i’d never have to write again
because after i put that to paper
what else
what more could i
have to add
walking in a land
where i am not heard
i cannot hear the words
of the army of deaf mutes
only the popping
of gristle as they work their
jaws like meat grinders
or am i the one
who makes no sound
and cannot receive
a benediction
lack of foresight (20170323)
the whistling
of the wind in the birches
i have forgotten my coat
again
day at the beach (20170322)
we crawled from the sea
not to be better
but to escape
the insatiable maw
consume consume consume
its waves wail
all it ever wants
is to eat us alive
and turn us into shards
of coral
washing up
on dead shores
river and hunger (20170321)
i am sewn into a beaver pelt
and set adrift in the river
i hear the rocks split the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
i feel them drag along my back
these jagged river stones
not yet worn down, splitting the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
no longer enough air to breathe
the stench of game hide and water fills my lungs
bruised, i flail, splitting the water
though finally darkness satiates my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
——
Words and Feathers 