Elizabeth

Elizabeth May 2014

charcoal

there was an indignant smudge
in the lower left corner unsettled
loftiness inside the message you sent
dripping with a misled shadow
breathing out suspended charcoal
you didn't notice

I sat in my room in disarray
headphone music spilling sideways
over the sides of the counter
dripping with a misled reason
breathing out a suspended sigh
you didn't notice

tomorrow I'll be gone
I don't want you to miss me
you'll be further than before
dripping with a misled mystery
breathing out your own
suspended question mark
I won't notice

Elizabeth May 2014

hum

lately I've
been building
castles out of
sand, shriveled
veins, dried
bones, fatigued souls,
they've been waiting
for the tide
to find its way
back to the rocks
it's all volcanic ash
blended into
sand across
the shore where
the sun tries to find
its way around
impassive clouds
they bicker with
the breeze while
it hums past my
ears and I realize I've
forgotten what
your voice
sounds like
I've forgotten
I imagine it sounds
a lot like crashing
waves on rocks, they're
constant
birds above my head
confident
sun against my shoulders
warm
and my thoughts across the sea
home

Elizabeth May 2014

forth

berry flavored sunbeams
through the curtains her
thoughts condensed to water
lingering below an
AC unit above rugged, tired
drips to a murky puddle watching
fragile people close their
eyes to open hearts she
didn't move but somehow
snuck over the windowsill clambered
over the bridge with a scraped knee she
went to a meadow valley peppered white
you saw her and you knew.
deep inside a girl buried her
face to a tattered pillow
breathing disheartened, melancholy sighs
watching fireflies in the eyes of someone
far away, it wasn't even there
they weren't real, and she knew.
you pull her close lead her outwards facing
liquid sunshine wandering whispers turn
to knowing, realized it was wrong
this time, same as last
opened her eyes with a heart still open, she sees
berry flavored sunbeams
through the curtains again, this time
she can see what's behind them, too

Elizabeth May 2014

crossed swords, crossed fingers

forgive and forget, they've all
told me to do.
forgiving I've done, but
I can’t forget you.

uncross the swords, I’ll step
to the side
my fingers are crossed, are
yours crossed, same as mine?

(2011)

Elizabeth May 2014

names

pulses of voices rumbling in the
corner I sit with half of my heart
hidden beneath my textbooks
piecing bones back together just to
watch them crumble again.
they’re all talking about today
I only want to talk about yesterday and
tomorrow - searching in a place that isn’t real
today is already too full - a cluttered kitchen, an
unmade bed, ***** laundry, new faces
with new names falling like raindrops far away
they kiss the ocean, far from me
and I’m glad, I don’t want those raindrops
I only want you

today in class I peeled back the
corners of my textbook
and drew your name
across the borders
of each page

Elizabeth May 2014

lovely oblivion

all alone in the unaccustomed patches of this
house, irrevocably mesmerized, washing the
eggshell blue ceramics submerged in winter,
all folly for the tallies I've sketched across
my forearm to the number of
pensive detachments I've buried in my pocket
from only that day, and that day alone.
no answers to the manner of this impulsive
habit of stretching my mind across the ocean
a fishing line with no hook
a photo frame with no picture living inside
I’ve turned you into someone you're not
I’ve brought you to places you’ll never be
surrounded by strangers, lovely oblivion
they don’t know, they’ll never know
and neither will you

Elizabeth May 2014

you

you have tied your words
into knots
around my fingers