Sunday, April 7, 2013

npm: 6

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


A cheetah, folded twice,
back to natural light,
Dali over one shoulder,
Rebel of great calves
spoonbent spine
small eyes
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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