003.
i had a million different organs
and broke every single one
with that last sip, seawater
on my tongue; i would have
painted the moon turquoise,
i would have blotted out the sun
and kept our paper-thin night lasting
for days
and then months
and then years.
(when that silver arm reached its limit, i
bent it back. i wanted to hear the screech
of its breaking and laugh at our ending.)
002.
6.23.08
i fall in love in summer
heat; with sweat-slicked skin,
with salty breath. this is my
downfall, my summer lust,
and by dusty gas pumps
i relish in the worn back
pockets of faded denim, the
sun-silvered jeans of boys
left to laze. i am in my
weakest months.
001.
there is paper twisting in
her fingers, gold in her
hair. modern rapunzel with five
men weaved, collaboration at its finest.
cute button, smile sweet:
give me something tangible.
she felt his leaving wound her
like an echo. suddenly this
urgency, this fear of dying away
from home. hurry! rubber wings
and ringed grip to guide you
back to kitchen comfort wafting.
quick: gather your scattered
princes and pin them down;
tuck them in pockets familiar
to find upon your return.
