Sunday, April 7, 2013

npm: 6

Posting my poem a day late but you'll have that with busy/nice weather weekends.

04/06

A cheetah, folded twice,
back to natural light,
Dali over one shoulder,
guardian.
Rebel of great calves
spoonbent spine
small eyes
rage
hitting what echoes for hours.

Under the tongue
where youth rots,
a collect call:
I want you to be my wife.
Vow between dial tones,
a witness,
my old shirt in a fist on your bed--
teeth full of muscle you tear from my bones.

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