kahara-jones-1Whisper

American
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Orange Juice and mustachesI watched you there, sitting in the small booth. You were sitting in your denim pants, with your arm draped over the top of the bench’s backing, as if someone had been sitting with you, less than moments ago. A thought flashed into your eyes, and your posture became awful, it bent like a string that was meant to resound and hum, but instead twanged and then broke. The way you sat brought the table closer to your chin, and your eyes became watery. / You were gazing into your brown drink. You hadn’t touched the rim yet, hadn’t moistened it with your lips, which hid under a forest of coarse growth. / Did you notice the consistency of the foam in your glass? I bet you the waiter had spat in it. He didn’t like your tone; even as glass with something thrown in the middle.
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GlassesThe glasses in this restaurant / are spotted with finger-oil / and when held up to the sun,
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Glow in the Dark StarsI just want you / to sit on this bench / next to me
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EvelynEvelyn / you flew out with the day's wind / and the sparrows
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Love-rants like thisHe / Was first to my second / (instict)
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VentYour voice is warm / and higher than mine / you sing without coal-covered notes
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ErrorI am not a- / I am not a- / I am a red mess of what human kind doesn't need to see
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Crumble RumbleThe love we made was enervating, / you rancorous pooch! / I cannot suppress my deleterious desires!
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PlacidDew 'neath the eyes / become teasing images that lack substance / but I am sightless
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StopStop- / the drumming of your thoughts, / the ticking of the anxiety,
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