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 Jun 2015 Kenn Rushworth
Corset
I watched the paper
soak up the ink
as it blotched
breast strokes
across the page...
suddenly,
street bound
jazz hounds
legs,
pinioned
to pavement,
hand signals
of  July scroll by,
a memory strolls
in reverse as a
name  scrawled contra
across  wheat covered
hills...returned to me
chaotic,
lovely.

A single day
took it's light
from the crayon
colored buildings
laughter ran out
from a beautiful city
where the seagulls  
brushed it's wings
against my cheek
like lovers once
embraced
arm in arm,
long before
infancy.

A memory plucked
from the eye of
golden Roses
littering the street
in irradiant petals
like pieces
of shattered
poetry
in the blood
of a waxing
poet.
alphabet strung into word
word woven to sentence

can't make love to be heard
speaks it loudest
in silence!
alphabet strung into word
word woven to sentence

can't make love to be heard
speaks it loudest
in silence!
 Jun 2015 Kenn Rushworth
Liz Hill
The lips I kissed tonight,
didn't taste like you.
And the cotton shirt that I
clung to didn't smell like you.
So I kissed him harder and
pulled him closer,
pushing you deeper into my
memories, always trying
to forget that
my lips,
and my arms,
weren't enough for you either.
Old but accurate.

— The End —