Phoebe: Favorites

Jan 2014 Phoebe

david badgerow

all i have now
is ten toes in the sand
and the sun on my
chest, face and shoulders
i'm completely contaminated by
this bottle in my left hand,
the first drink i've had in days.

last night i spent
two hours knuckle-deep
in your fishnets, our tongues
were playing twister while
your daughter slept upstairs.

she was dreaming
of a car on fire
and a house exploding with
magnificent light,
downstairs you were wetter
than the deepest ocean
and i had the warmth of
your whisper in my ear.

Jan 2014 Phoebe

Lured, Now

Jan 2014 Phoebe

david badgerow

Lured, Now

Lured
by unspeakable, ineluctable gravity
Kisses, vehement, and by no means our first,
speak of experience, a wordless wisdom that now gives flight to innocence,
unprecedented familiarity among two who have spoken so little
a gentle tug of war between souls, transcending feeble sensation, arriving at conversation
Solid, fervid, with perfection of cadence – a meter aberrant, fantastic, unimpeded by numerical confines

Now
a limitless tickling between two souls
like courting doves
And the smoke in your mouth became sweet,
your saliva a quenching potion of forgetfulness,
And at this moment neither past nor future have ever existed,
There is only this delicious wine of our lips and the nonsensical *******
of two sipping souls.

Jan 2014 Phoebe

volcano

Jan 2014 Phoebe

david badgerow

volcano

she's the volcano
in my bedroom and
my heart, a chandelier made
out of fireworks
that had burned all night
in a flame-race, howling upwards

she looks better in
one of my old t-shirts
to my stretched-out eyes
than i ever would in
a ballroom gown,
i was not blessed with
the bust for a corset,
with all my life throbbing in my throat

under my sheets, groping
she is an octopus wearing lacy crystals
who has tasted a man's flesh
and collapsed in a slither
at the charred-out caves
in big, good America

after a hectic twenty minutes
she is honey-pale and
falling into empty light
shivering in my bed-boat
her hair slammed back
against the stern, the spray scything upwards

as much as it may seem like it, this is not about ******* a girl in the middle of an epileptic fit.

Jan 2014 Phoebe

pancakes

Jan 2014 Phoebe

david badgerow

pancakes

she brings me pancakes and lights me a cigarette
my ***** are cement and icicles form on my toes

she opens the curtain to a dying dove on the balcony
the banks are closed and the stock market has crashed

the periscope lens, so lucidly balanced, has fallen
irreparably into the crypt of a dream

i take a bite of an apple and stare into the mid-morning sun
after bagging the bird, she drapes herself across my chest

she is worshiped like a cradle, or a gravestone in a thunder storm
in her ecstasies, a prism, a poem fits like a glove

as the sunlight warms her ******* she heaves remnants
of last night's whiskey into my adam's apple and it burns me

the words she struck me with still sting in my ears
her fingerprints remain on my back and my bathroom mirror

Jan 2014 Phoebe

On a name

Jan 2014 Phoebe

Emma

On a name

Her name is Katie.
But you'd never be able to tell by looking at her.
Her hair has the electricity of lightning,
and power gushes from her eyes.

She is wild, untamed.
But you'd never know that from her name.
The name Katie suggests that she does as she is told.
Suggests that she is a cookie cutter cutout,
sugar snap princess.

But Katie is a rebel.
She will take your heart and she will rip it out.
No shame, no mercy.
You'd never find out until it's too late.