Monday, November 25, 2013

24/30 & 25/30 - poemaday

written with guidance from this prompt: click here

Run like heaven.
Count the tallied days
for a final number.
Comb redness from cheeks,
spiral out the spine.
Be tail-less, muddied,
on purpose.
like you aren’t
fourteen days behind.
like you’re right on time.

poem based on this exercise: click here

To the one who deemed me trash
unworthy, not of her time
I send rookery alongside reptilian congregation
their sloshed waters spilling like
dark thread between teeth.
Every night may bed go soaked,
may sink be rotted and furred.
For the thief I gift belly of concrete
flock of tongues on hunt, arteries whipping
new dry air, old death.
May your rust
Make her saliva wept from stinger,
make darling bed fall through floor--how dreamlike
feathers from this tumble land,
how uncertain even ground may greet--
may perfumed skin now house bones of twig,
may smack of jellyfish electrify your meat.

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