fleewrites - Hello Poetry

in the basement our crevices become maps we point to the tender parts

0

Dec 26, 2017

Dec 26, 2017 at 5:46 PM UTC

in the basement our crevices become maps we point to the tender parts

the shrill of deboning the wounds, the daybreaks those scoliotic stems cling to, the brine we chug in spring to keep the tender parts green now frosted in charcoal, yeasted-over and gargling with ice. but this is just winter swelling and the lights may have gone burnt but the dimness gapes so beautifully at night.

0

Dec 26, 2017

Dec 26, 2017 at 5:39 PM UTC

Swelling

the shrill of deboning the wounds, the daybreaks those scoliotic stems cling to, the brine we chug in spring to keep the tender parts green now frosted in charcoal, yeasted-over and gargling with ice. but this is just winter swelling and the lights may have gone burnt but the dimness gapes so beautifully at night.

11

his body: swung in the drippy-foam. As gunmetal cements unwavering bites on his collarbone, I force myself from hunger and exodus. maybe i, too exit like light, searching warmth in mouths un-flavored desolate electricity. maybe i, too will compress my body into bruise and swallow the excess. but for what i want is to want his syllables leashed around my neck, peeling the ululated marks hugged on my belly. i wait for the flooding to swell us upstream.

0

Dec 26, 2017

Dec 26, 2017 at 5:34 PM UTC

LIGHT MEASUREMENTS

his body: swung in the drippy-foam. As gunmetal cements unwavering bites on his collarbone, I force myself from hunger and exodus. maybe i, too exit like light, searching warmth in mouths un-flavored desolate electricity. maybe i, too will compress my body into bruise and swallow the excess. but for what i want is to want his syllables leashed around my neck, peeling the ululated marks hugged on my belly. i wait for the flooding to swell us upstream.

12