erin-kayWhisper

American

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FictionI write poems, not people, / And in them we all move so gracefully. / I diagnose myself freely with the

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1.8k

InfinityThe most beautiful thing in the world is disappearing. / Eyes half-shut, / Eyes, half-shut,

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My Hair is BlueWhat color is your hair? / You should dye it again. / Why did you do that?

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1.2k

The Blue Moods of Edna PontellierI drop my clothes and they beat through the air with / A deep / Dark

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1.2k

CatalinaI wish it was easy for me to do what you do, / But I have never been very good at opening myself up. / You do it with such elegance.

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Cruel FateI hope that I'm your Moby **** / I hope I'm the sneering, many-toothed crocodile from your Captain Hook head. / I hope you awake, late in the night, sweating, hearing a ticking sound,

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1.1k

Literature DoesHere we are born: / The ill-prepared, / The underwhelmed,

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Ode to Sylvia PlathI breathe / In through my toes, / And out through my tears.

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EyelidYou closed your eyes on me. You closed your eyes on me. You closed your eyes on me. You closed your eyes on me. There was something about your shutter-speed, that curtain-call, that eyelash-escape. If a door closes that never was opened does its swing still reek of creaking finality? You closed your eyes on me, but I’ve only ever seen your eyelids. There’s some humor in that—my gaze ricochets when you close your eyes. Myself, I play Sisyphus: chasing their constant motion uphill only to eventually realize my curse and slide down subjected to eternity. A forever of the ****** function designed to exclude. I had a dream once that I caught you, eyes open, staring into forever from the wing of a plane. I was dying of thirst and leapt into you, landing on the horizon of your attention. The black of your eye saw me there, but quickly grew tired and retreated under a thick, peachy veil of resolute disinterest.

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859

Sometimes I Think I Could Have Loved YouSometimes I think I could have loved you. / Quietly, in my way, / like a guarded mist that surrounded you.

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828

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