Hannah McC: Favorites

Feb 2013 Hannah McC

Incredibly

Feb 2013 Hannah McC

Krysta Conklin

I thought I could do it.
You picked me up in the same car we made so many memories in this summer.
The same car that creaks when you shut the door.
The same car that seats are too low and I have to strain my neck to see over the dashboard.
The same car I decided I was in love with you in.
It was bittersweet.
I thought i'd be okay.
I thought it'd be easy.
We were supposed to sit in awkward silence
and turn up the radio until we got to her house and I could break from the tension.
But instead you were charming and you made cackle.
And you got behind the wheel and drove like you owned the road.
The wind howled through the open windows and I was in the most blissful state of mind.
I never told you how much I loved to just watch you drive.
I could sit for hours in that very passenger seat and just watch the road disappear under the tires.
You got out of the car and walked into the gas station and the first thing I thought to myself was
"**** **** **** **** **** ****..."
That familiar feeling in my heart began to sweep over my soul and course through my veins.
I breathed in the scent of gasoline and cinnamon.
I glided my fingers across the soft leather of the steering wheel and sat back and thought of how
I fit so perfectly in that seat.
Like it was made for me.
Like you were made for me.
You glided effortlessly into the car and cranked the engine.
It roared to life
and chills danced up my spine.
I couldn't face you.
I couldn't look in your eyes.
Because I knew if I did I would be hooked again.
I knew your deep brown eyes would seep into me and cause me to shiver.
So I stared out the window and watched the world pass me by.
Mindless small talk kept me busy from thinking about how incredibly not over you I was.
I'm incredibly not over you.
I miss you.
And that car.
And the sweat spots on our backs from the sun and the leather.
It was bitter sweet.
And as soon as you dropped me off my breathing returned to normal
and the feeling in my finger tips came back.
As I watched your taillights fade into the distance I ****** in the cold night air,
and turned to the sky, hoping to fill the void in my stomach with the stars.
As much as I hate to admit,
I'm yours.
I'm still yours.
I'm still incredibly yours.

Jan 2013 Hannah McC

The Bath Tub

Jan 2013 Hannah McC

Ezra Pound

The Bath Tub

As a bathtub lined with white porcelain,
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid,
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion,
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.

Jan 2013 Hannah McC

Bed

Jan 2013 Hannah McC

Robyn

Bed

She linked her arms behind her back and tiptoed down the hallway. Her family was all asleep.
Her mouth was drawn up at the corners and her eyes twinkled, even in the dark.

What could she be up to? thought no one.

She turned the corner into the kitchen. Her hair swinging around her shoulders.
A hum escaped her lips, the melody unidentifiable.
With a long arm she reached up and opened a cupboard, her other arm following suit to retrieve a glass.
Hopping quickly over to the sink, the long arms came into play again, switching the faucet on and filling her cup.

Thirsty, at this time of night? asked no one.

Her smile grew wider. She straightened out, having been bent over the sink.
Those long arms grew stiff.
She spoke,

"What are you doing in my house?" Her voice was deep and clear, like a river.

There was silence throughout the house.

She turned quickly, the water in her glass sloshing over onto her fingers.

There was no one there.
Her face became sad, the mischevious glint lost.

What are you doing in my house? wondered no one.

"Nothing." She said.
And went back to bed.

A short story.

Dec 2012 Hannah McC

A silence with you

Dec 2012 Hannah McC

Leonard Nimoy

A silence with you

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

Dec 2012 Hannah McC

MISS PINKIE IN FOR THE KILL.

Dec 2012 Hannah McC

Terry Collett

MISS PINKIE IN FOR THE ****.

Miss Pinkie
had him spread out

upon her bed
an object

to ******
and adore

his clothes folded
neatly on a chair

hers cast here
and there

upon the floor
there’s an art

to seduction
she said

moving in
upon him

her tongue
about to lick

his pecker
he laying there

taking in
the tinted colour

of her greying hair
her eyes

opals of blue
not white

outside the window
the approaching night

and she
came down on him

and was silent
of words

but licked
and ******

and he moved
as the motion

moved him
his pecker saluting

and he noticed
how her earrings

dangled
as she downed

upon him
and up again

for breath
oh

he thought
but saying nothing

what a way to go
what a pleasant death.

Dec 2012 Hannah McC

Lungs

Dec 2012 Hannah McC

Ian Miranda

Lungs

I want to sip
the morning dew off
your body
Taste the honey
that collects on your goosebumps

I want to hear the raindrops
dangling from your skin
aching to roll
like a current
through your coral fingers

I want to trace
the sunlight
on your lips
that leave your warm kisses
on my neck

I want your nails licking my back
like hot steel
crashing against my frozen body

I want to run my fingers through
a curtain of your hair
Flowing freely in my palms
I want to drink the colour from it

I want to taste every word
through our kisses
And decypher
the secrets engraved on your tongue

I want to lift you up
with a single pinky finger
and encase you in hands
that feel like arms

I want to love you
like leaves carried in the wind
like the stars cradled in the sky
like your breath surging in my lungs

Nov 2012 Hannah McC

air and light and time and space

Nov 2012 Hannah McC

Charles Bukowski

air and light and time and space

"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

Oct 2012 Hannah McC

THE NIGHT DIONNE WARWICK SANG.

Oct 2012 Hannah McC

Terry Collett

THE NIGHT DIONNE WARWICK SANG.

Dionne Warwick was singing
you’ll never get to Heaven
if you break my heart

over the small white
transistor radio
under the covers

of the bed after
having made love
to your girlfriend

and you both snuggled there
she running a finger
down your spine

and you kissing
one of her small *******
and the transistor crackled

and the voice on the radio
went in and out of tune
and you said

hush Sweetie Pie
or the others
will hear you

and she put a hand
over her mouth
to stifle the giggles

and the smell of lilac
and sweating bodies
filled your nose

and the singing
made you sway
and you sensed

the flesh warm
and sweet
beneath you

and you listened
for the sound of others
maybe along the hall

or moving in their sleep
and her lips
kissed your ear

and her tongue
reached right in
and you thought that

paradise
that music
the warm flesh

the kisses
and her tongue
easing itself

in and out
of your ear
and the moon lit up

in the corner
of the window
bright and angel like

over the top
smiling glow
and you and she

in the bed
and you opened
your eyes

and you were alone
it had all been
a dream in your head.