emilie-dean - Hello Poetry

licking a paw on the sill, grey-white shadow of fur and sun beam this paw must be clean this paw must be clean. this paw must be clean he will clean it by rough tongue to silk fur coat two licks and nudge paw to face and back becoming a warm god in the sun looking for hair disturbed this paw must be clean

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Sep 29, 2010

Sep 29, 2010 at 11:02 AM UTC

to the cat in my neighbor's window

licking a paw on the sill, grey-white shadow of fur and sun beam this paw must be clean this paw must be clean. this paw must be clean he will clean it by rough tongue to silk fur coat two licks and nudge paw to face and back becoming a warm god in the sun looking for hair disturbed this paw must be clean

15

when i saw you hovering there some little brown thing i thought of my nails scraping across pink flesh the amassing of skin under their beds know this had I been born from some kind of egg hatched as a larvae thirsty for blood meal the weight of the tortillas might not have felt so light in my hand as I brought them to you speed like colors against a cabinet door

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Sep 27, 2010

Sep 27, 2010 at 8:21 PM UTC

to a mosquito, smashed with a pack of flour tortillas

when i saw you hovering there some little brown thing i thought of my nails scraping across pink flesh the amassing of skin under their beds know this had I been born from some kind of egg hatched as a larvae thirsty for blood meal the weight of the tortillas might not have felt so light in my hand as I brought them to you speed like colors against a cabinet door

17

I might have seen you scouring the concrete ashtrays for a half-smoked cigarette drags of stolen nicotine flavored by the taste of a woman's lipstick black-brown animal eyes circled in charcoal drag-queen precision a rat-boy, tracing the maze of a local shopping mall

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Sep 27, 2010

Sep 27, 2010 at 7:31 PM UTC

to a lover, ten years prior to our meeting

I might have seen you scouring the concrete ashtrays for a half-smoked cigarette drags of stolen nicotine flavored by the taste of a woman's lipstick black-brown animal eyes circled in charcoal drag-queen precision a rat-boy, tracing the maze of a local shopping mall

12

Oh, delicious siren of the produce aisle, your alias, “Vegetable,” above. Come, let me pick you from the bunch. I’ll run my hands around the contours of your shape, checking you for holes, bruises, dirt. “I’ll take this one,” I say, bagging you up, twist-tie tight. How softly you ride, in the front seat of the shopping cart, alone with the eggs.

0

Sep 27, 2010

Sep 27, 2010 at 6:00 PM UTC

To a ripe tomato

Oh, delicious siren of the produce aisle, your alias, “Vegetable,” above. Come, let me pick you from the bunch. I’ll run my hands around the contours of your shape, checking you for holes, bruises, dirt. “I’ll take this one,” I say, bagging you up, twist-tie tight. How softly you ride, in the front seat of the shopping cart, alone with the eggs.

13