Monday, November 25, 2013

22/30, 23/30 - poemaday

a few days behind...more soon.

22/30

poem based on this exercise: http://bostonpoetryslam.com/archives/4358


Go,
where you belong,
into the archives.
Leave behind the recycling,
full.
I’ll take care of it.
We’re ripping up the carpet
so stains don’t matter--
don’t let spilled wine weigh
on your mind--
the spinning room was worth it.


I’ll repurpose the splintered wood,
lumber splay of front yard,
tips of nail as rusted as blood--
doors and windows are all open,
wind will high-five you in the hallway
even the basement
immaculate--
all the covered furniture is gone
you are a heart full of pillows--


Days of you are underlined in thick red pen
warm wild months unplanned
these legs filled with miles
and porch light parking lot midafternoon bar crawls
and pools rivers rain
your months full of stumbling glory
unexpected destruction and the blooms
of a million swaying blue skies
I will go down knowing
how you felt
in my hands.




23/30



things i cannot stop thinking about


how have my hands remained my hands for this long?
same goes for ribcage
freckle on knuckle of knee


how did touch not burn them off
turn palms thin as the threads
that line them


how does the head fit all of the moments
how am i not dragging her heavy
how does she not permanently tilt
with all that sweet and bitter


all the ways emotion dictates muscle
i have no business glancing but neck turns anyway
bullets of my words flying from spasm in
trigger finger
how i run over pauses
to park my responses
faucets of apologies that follow


regret as a thing with teeth
cyanide-soaked button holes
callous of
sucked thumb


grip, in general--
her dove and devil
and never deciding

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