The self-contained sunlight trickled
through her apricot skin, the dream-like sense
of suspension receded into the driftwood calm
as the birds glued to the wind chime
danced their static waltz. The closeness of
her body in the hotel room's single shared bed
focused like the uncasing of glasses from
a cotton shirt's breast pocket. The entire
room dulled as her hair fell away from
her eyes still closed but staring directly
into his neck, innocence beading her skin
like sunlight through a colander, her relaxed
breath fomenting a juvenile refinement, like
drinking cranberry juice concentrate from
a crystal champagne glass. His eyes filled
with admiration, not necessarily towards
her but the unconscious movement of her
cheek nestling against his shoulder.
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:04 PM UTC
As I grazed my palms against the bricks,
the red-orange crumbled into a soft, dense powder
that reminded me of a manicured bark
from tall, ghastly trees that spread up into the sky
and coated the blue in a darkness, so finite,
as the limbs of surrounding trees connected
and bent and folded into each other in a symmetry
reminiscent of the fingers of a girl and her father
joined together on a late train ride,
the day's activities taking their toll
upon the girl's smattered unrest
and her father's shirt collar in the same proportions
while he stays awake to appreciate the one moment
of quiet with the last living being he cares for.
The cars spoke loudly enough to shake my kneecaps
and stir my mind from its stupor
as I stared back into my palm
and realized the trail of red
I left along the sidewalk.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:30 PM UTC
Through the second story window,
I saw the lights on the tree.
The smell of motor oil passed by
as I crossed the dark street, haunted
by the eerie calm in the
overhanging lights. My hands smelled
of laundry as they stretched and met
the wooden banister, dusty,
***** but I climbed the stairs
to your apartment glowing,
imagining the sparse presents
scattered around the tree to
mask the carpet, the smell of
half-burnt cookies in the air,
the forced glee in your eyes that
told me exactly how the day
had been. I knocked on the door,
and it opened, presenting
your smiling comfort face, a sigh
of relief, and a breath upon
knowing that I was home.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:18 PM UTC
We saw shooting stars
outside the kitchen window.
You put the knife down
and we ran out to the porch.
The stars fell in swarms
as you sat down on the stairs.
I was overcome
by the beauty of your eyes
as they caught the stars
and you said to make a wish.
You shut your eyelids,
trusted the world with mutters.
Back in our bedroom
you asked "what did you wish for"
Your eyes still shining
and your head pressed against mine
I looked and I smiled
and I said "nothing".
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:07 PM UTC