sean-a-fleming - Hello Poetry

We spent hours on our skateboards Hot days and cold nights Skinned knees bleed slightly; they drip lightly on the same asphalt that we glide over all afternoon Rubber wheels smack cracks in the sidewalk Wood scrapes concrete as you launch into the air if only for a moment Everyone comes down Rosy from the sunshine T-Shirt stuck slightly to my sweating back I wheeled myself under the installed cedars, over littered leaves, around suburban corners A man in an orange vest held up his arms, beckoning mothers in their vans to stop for me while I skated by but I didn’t thank him I felt regret In your room we fumbled awkwardly in the half-light Sunshine warmed us in slats through your dusty blinds Partially filled cups sat atop your dresser, full of water and red pop There was a buffalo springfield poster on your wall and I thought you were devastatingly cool We’re sixteen and we’re not in love but we love what we’re doing I still remember your skin, it was olive dark and bruised all over, when I ran my fingers down your back white lines remained for a fleeting moment Short shorts and a long shirt, these memories are vivid I wonder where you are now – an actress I hear, which is funny because I never really thought you were any good I wonder if you still find the minutes to take your old skateboard, covered in dust and the film of time, out of whatever buried corner it inhabits Back in your bedroom, my hand lingers next to yours as we sit close on your bed While you contemplate my lips, I contemplate yours I’m a little late for dinner

0

Oct 7, 2011

Oct 7, 2011 at 8:30 PM UTC

sean-a-fleming

Youth

We spent hours on our skateboards Hot days and cold nights Skinned knees bleed slightly; they drip lightly on the same asphalt that we glide over all afternoon Rubber wheels smack cracks in the sidewalk Wood scrapes concrete as you launch into the air if only for a moment Everyone comes down Rosy from the sunshine T-Shirt stuck slightly to my sweating back I wheeled myself under the installed cedars, over littered leaves, around suburban corners A man in an orange vest held up his arms, beckoning mothers in their vans to stop for me while I skated by but I didn’t thank him I felt regret In your room we fumbled awkwardly in the half-light Sunshine warmed us in slats through your dusty blinds Partially filled cups sat atop your dresser, full of water and red pop There was a buffalo springfield poster on your wall and I thought you were devastatingly cool We’re sixteen and we’re not in love but we love what we’re doing I still remember your skin, it was olive dark and bruised all over, when I ran my fingers down your back white lines remained for a fleeting moment Short shorts and a long shirt, these memories are vivid I wonder where you are now – an actress I hear, which is funny because I never really thought you were any good I wonder if you still find the minutes to take your old skateboard, covered in dust and the film of time, out of whatever buried corner it inhabits Back in your bedroom, my hand lingers next to yours as we sit close on your bed While you contemplate my lips, I contemplate yours I’m a little late for dinner

36

the air is silent tonight her revolving thighs, pressed. i sprial like a catnap between the orange and blue glow of fire light. here, undressed, amber inside wild without regrets. a twinkling. as i breathe in the moist tendrils softly on my lips does this flavor of tragedy bleed from my womb onto thin carpet

0

Oct 7, 2011

Oct 7, 2011 at 8:25 PM UTC

sean-a-fleming

(s)pit

the air is silent tonight her revolving thighs, pressed. i sprial like a catnap between the orange and blue glow of fire light. here, undressed, amber inside wild without regrets. a twinkling. as i breathe in the moist tendrils softly on my lips does this flavor of tragedy bleed from my womb onto thin carpet

14

here fore us (encore us) * . . i don’t know whatapoem - is or is - not, a parent or any word it could be related - - absolutely - - - to a pomegranate it could be french - for apple or dressing for hair, for an aunt - - I don’t know whatisin it, a seed - - maybe it’s me maybe it’s you *

0

Oct 7, 2011

Oct 7, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC

sean-a-fleming

Untitled

here fore us (encore us) * . . i don’t know whatapoem - is or is - not, a parent or any word it could be related - - absolutely - - - to a pomegranate it could be french - for apple or dressing for hair, for an aunt - - I don’t know whatisin it, a seed - - maybe it’s me maybe it’s you *

36

We are messy opposites, in our various states of undress. This un-tucked condition allows promise to come apart at the seams, lies confirmed in graphic splendour. Refusing to taint modesty with formaldehyde kisses, there can be no pretense here; I stifle my gag reflex, lips quivering. You are more comfortable allowing your skin to access mine, than with its grotesque injustice. You confess inadequacies, and though the rhetoric is convincing indeed, your hollows betray you.

0

Oct 7, 2011

Oct 7, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC

sean-a-fleming

Untitled

We are messy opposites, in our various states of undress. This un-tucked condition allows promise to come apart at the seams, lies confirmed in graphic splendour. Refusing to taint modesty with formaldehyde kisses, there can be no pretense here; I stifle my gag reflex, lips quivering. You are more comfortable allowing your skin to access mine, than with its grotesque injustice. You confess inadequacies, and though the rhetoric is convincing indeed, your hollows betray you.

18

Oscillating pulse blood makes perfect puddles Makes swamps and marshes and wild bayous Puddles of thick sticky gloopy innards soak red **** carpet In roadside motels Where we took turns on a parlytic ***** and he cried the ***** time You mean the whole time? Stop daddy stop! Everything makes me uncomfortable. No it's fine, everything is always fine.

0

Oct 7, 2011

Oct 7, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC

sean-a-fleming

etc, etc

Oscillating pulse blood makes perfect puddles Makes swamps and marshes and wild bayous Puddles of thick sticky gloopy innards soak red **** carpet In roadside motels Where we took turns on a parlytic ***** and he cried the ***** time You mean the whole time? Stop daddy stop! Everything makes me uncomfortable. No it's fine, everything is always fine.

10