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 Mar 2013 Christos Rigakos
Odi
Men who look like ferris wheels
every color representing different aspects of their personality

The first three words don't have to be beautiful
they just have to make sense
like connecting dots on paper

men who love with their fists
and hate with their mouths
who once were boys taking things apart
like remote controls their own fathers used to beat     Obedience into their small bodies.  Left them with a fury tattooed across their hearts
Just to give them the challenge of putting themselves back together

They buy their wive's flowers after
a four day bruise isn't so glaringly purple anymore
not so accusing-
kiss her broken ribs
and tell their children midnight stories

children trained as mood detectors
human robots
know when to shutup
speak when you are spoken to*

Men who speak like cutting boards
Every slice of the knives in their toungues leave
hollow aching missing parts
just to teach their children that not all
things can be put together once taken apart

whose daughter glues together the parts of old telephones
to spite the missing pieces
so every welt he beats into her bones
she sings herself unbroken
until she stands robust and imperfect
there are holes in her armour
but she holds it together

with her fathers fists.
My ruby looks on stones to see the light.
While amber stars are flashing in her mien,
She forges facets with her eyes and mines
A rocky grave.  To bear as such, the sun
Un-sung, she could caul parhelion to dust
And still doom to shadow those fireworks
She alone ignites.  Here then lies a truth;
My ruby looks on stones to see the light.
Rising sun gently kisses her brows,
she transforms to a rose,
on that  ethereal vision of beauty,
he goes through a metamorphosis.
Her red luscious lips,
 repeat his name in whispers,
          such exquisite torture!
hush, hush,
keep your rumbling down. let us not wake him!
he has no idea of this.
oh, this started so long ago, i cannot even remember
the first time i touched your heat,
tasted your iniquitous liquid.
i kept coming back, for one more sip, one more
sniff of your lip-smacking aroma.
oh, how my glands moisten at the mere thought of you!
how my nerves tremble without you.
so, shhh, shhh,
my joe, my java, my jesus.
keep your whistling down, my lover sleeps.
but tonight, we’ll share
another taste in my favorite mug,
we’ll swim in your bitter ocean
our goodbyes
are becoming more difficult.
for each day, i discover new crinkles
under your eyes or
how your voice sounds like sugar & cream stirred in coffee
when you smile.
so when i kiss you goodbye,
i’m kissing goodbye all of you.
(your body. your soul. my sea.)
i’m kissing goodbye the love that i have planted in you,
my love will grow until vines intertwine in your strands.
saying goodbye to you has never been
easy.
but why is it so hard now?
1.
    Stupid  white cloud!
    no self preserving
     instinct,
    fallen in to
    dandy wind's callous hands,
    joined him
    in his  jittery dance,
                shredded in to pieces
                within no time,
                spread apart,
                pathetically spun around,
               dissolved in to the blue expanses,
               without a trace;
               not even an echo,
               of  her remembrance,
               is left behind.
                       2.
              Selfless white cloud,
              no ego left, to mar her
              spotless form,
              no urge to exhibit,
              dissolved in to the loving hands
              of winsome, breeze,
              in an ecstatic dance.
              Slowly dissolved,
              in bliss,
              became,
              one with
              the universe.
Hollow like the void that's grown between us.
Empty and broken.

A year and a half has passed.
do you ever feel like
you hold the most love?
you would take a bullet
while they would take a graze.
you would jump in front of a train
while they would (maybe) amputate a leg.

“I’d take a bullet for you”
but i never figured out if you meant it
literally
or figuratively
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