Kiagen McGinnis

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

he is

shampoo
in unsuspecting
eyes

glass
shards
at the
bottom
of the
pool

knees
scraped
******
on
asphalt

cereal
gone
soggy

a
stifled
scream

and yet;
an
indisposable
cavern
of
my
heart

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

klepto-

confession:
i
steal
things.

in my head:
money
does
not
exist.
it is
nothing
but
paper,
a system
that
only
screws
us
over.

my purse is full:
of
things
i
don't really
need
but
impulsively
take.
red
lipstick
and
a red
bra.

**** propriety
**** big white stores
**** cameras reminiscent of
Big Brother

i
find
a
dangerous
joy
in
the
ease
of
walking
away
unnoticed.

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

8 feet

my emotions
have their toes curled around the edge
of a haphazard diving board.
a long queue
of obnoxious, impatient
kids has formed
pestering me to jump.
dismally
the deep end awaits.

me?
my swimming is terrible at best.

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

anonymity

when you grabbed my ***
without looking in my eyes
                                          i probably should have felt something like a novelty.
when you kissed me hard against a wall
and stuck your cold hand up my shirt
                                          i probably should have known something more than your first name.

when the deed was done,
lying with harsh spaces on your futon
                                          one of us probably should have said something
                                          before the anonymity of the night
                                          ate us alive.

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

crazy

crazy
follows
me around
like
i'm leaving
a candy
trail

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

cancer of the blood

at the theatre,
a man sits in front of me
and i ache at how my view will be obstructed
then i notice the
shape of it:
how the hair is mostly gone
and the ears are a little large.
inexplicably, or maybe explicably,
it reminds me of
Thomas.
who is gone, those cells that spread through the
spine.
the thing that hurts about seeing that motif of his head,
is how i never said
i love you,
and i could have

Kiagen McGinnis Feb 2011

in regards to a musician

i once loved a boy
who lived on Wilson avenue

i could never get there fast enough
but always in my car, before i lock the doors
i sit very still and close my eyes a moment,
as if love needs preparation.

then covertly i look in his open living room window
and see him holding his guitar like an old friend
with his sleepy hair and that cat who is jealous of the
attention he gives me.
and i am looking at a person that i know in such detail,
and yet
not at all.

we hug big after i ring the doorbell
and i do not have the heart to say
how empty it feels.