Your scar tissue is majestic
I love the way it glows beneath your skin
Divine designs aligned in such a way
They make me lose my mind with sin
and I wish I could possess you
just so you can touch yourself
the way I would
so you can feel that way
Whenever you need to.
Darling,
I want to swim in you like an ocean
And get lost at sea for days.
I want to traverse your peaks and valleys,
Trace your hand - drawn cityscapes
leave no stone unturned,
Unearth your hidden geyser
As we both learn
new things, eternally
About your maternal Earth.
I want to burn you with the raging fire
of my infernal desire.
Like a volcano erupting a dozen miles in the sky, I will cover you
with the wreckage of my incendiary lust.
But I will forever nourish your soil
with the forest of my love.

380

There is a flower that Bees prefer—
And Butterflies—desire—
To gain the Purple Democrat
The Humming Bird—aspire—

And Whatsoever Insect pass—
A Honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her—capacity—

Her face be rounder than the Moon
And ruddier than the Gown
Or Orchis in the Pasture—
Or Rhododendron—worn—

She doth not wait for June—
Before the World be Green—
Her sturdy little Countenance
Against the Wind—be seen—

Contending with the Grass—
Near Kinsman to Herself—
For Privilege of Sod and Sun—
Sweet Litigants for Life—

And when the Hills be full—
And newer fashions blow—
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy—

Her Public—be the Noon—
Her Providence—the Sun—
Her Progress—by the Bee—proclaimed—
In sovereign—Swerveless Tune—

The Bravest—of the Host—
Surrendering—the last—
Nor even of Defeat—aware—
What cancelled by the Frost—

You called me ****
and I laughed

Because I am so much more than that

-h.w.

I desperately search the crowd looking for his face

the face that makes my heart race faster than anything before

I find him before he finds her

before his love for her is expressed on his face

That’s the best part for me

to see that there’s someone who can adore another such as he does

The fact that he spends his time looking at her

memorizing each detail and absorbing
it

He’s still in love with her despite all the hard years

and the way he loves her made me fall in love with him.

Do not fall for my words
Do not admire my writing
And do not lust after my poetry
It is incapable
Of loving back

Love me instead.

In a world where traumas are written all over our bodies


He has a bipolar jaw line and a suicidal knee cap,

collapsing and shaking

and reverberating his thoughts through his PTSD lip.

It quivers, and she looks away with an autistic eyelid.

See her a deaf cheek?

Their blind foreheads fluctuate, and their arthritic fingers vibrate.

Reynard’s Disease. Or Disorder IV. Perhaps,

one we’ve never heard before consumes the heart that’s about to break.

....

This was read at the University of Kansas in May of 2013: Read more about this event here:

http://shannonathompson.com/2013/05/10/contest-winners-and-poetry-from-my-ku-reading/

Our bodies lay parallel
Next to each other -
We never cross,
We never touch.
I forget what it's like to feel
Perpendicular to you.
These coordinates I've learned
To graph over my years
Finally have meaning to me now.
And I now realize that I
Hate mathematics more
Than I did my sophomore year.