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kfaye Dec 2015
abraham ****** his daughter
and everybody liked it
i must admit
                                          it was kind of okay.
they bashed in her teeth
all because she liked it
it looked like fun
i wish i was one.             of them


god gave us the earth
           and it was okay
kfaye Dec 2015
we
touched the floor grieving no one
while girls pushed down on their skin.
we kept our heads hidden inside of
gloveboxes
in the dry.mouth-feel of the night
we scraped it out:
the sound of eggs at breakfast-  early in the pink-eye morning.
with tar behind our lashes, we watched the ropes **** each other as they were tied down around your heels.
but better breeds better
and

as bitter as the backs of your teeth
and as fitful as the lips that you rest them on


tired as laundry maker's love,
and the darling dogs gnashing around in the cool-cut yard.
early in the slime-shine morning
kfaye Dec 2015
he said closing his eyes,
         i feel like a tree clutching the rocks on some high place,
        weary of wind and winter
        and grey of wood.
        my tired fingers in the tired ground.
        heavy of lid and brow,
        remembering too many passings and partings in the dim of
        mornings.  
        and you will think if foolish but for the shrubbery fading
        and the bees not returning in the summer
kfaye Dec 2015
shrine-headed maidens      
rotting in the sun  
catchers of sediment on their parched lips.
sad like riverstones over beyond the bank,
where the roots tried too hard to forget their fingers
and the air found them.
and breathed into them, new voices
saying,
i begin and end where the names laid upon you grow.
i have burdens borne away.
we have lost you.
and the entwives parting, sighed
kfaye Apr 2015
I killed you on a Tuesday.
under the least spectacular moonlight-

and in the instant you called to me,
I found the edges of my fingers at your cheek
and my wound above your hip.
I took hold of you now
searching for a way to fold you down to my size.
my head hits the ceiling when I turn down the stairs but

you muttered something-
I looked down,
“I feel smaller than a thumbnail”
kfaye Apr 2015
I was wrong then. and now condemned to rewriting the same small repertoire.over and again
until they feel legitimized by their own histories-
I caught you off guard the other day. I told you about my dead ex-friend that I never hated as much as she wanted me to.
you told me it was fine.
kfaye Apr 2015
new
gravity found me inside you,
owning up to decisions.and outliving bad ones,
playing down my own involvement in the desecration
of your religions  
we fell through each other’s cuticles like grass-clippings torn from the earth while sitting-
so with one bad earbud you pinned me down to time and place,

we made drawings again.
we pined by windows.
we pinned up our papers in the kitchen
made islands out of our voices-
let go with soft vigor.
tried less than as hard as we should have
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