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Boiler Room Keys

I read a line of scribbled spit nickels

Down the front of your shirt

You pressed a sheet of purple glue

Upon your eyelids

So when you wake up

The sky glows merry

And the trees blow cherry blossom

Daggers in your mouth

 

The bees **** in your ears

The silence swims in centuries

Your pores are hidden caves

Through which the red sea tide escapes from

Down the river

It flows like spilling

A bucket of butter soaked

Fingers frying on telephone cables

 

Let’s be so close that we are hideous

I don’t blink enough

to miss the way your eyes looked like half squeezed limes

blond knuckled

teenagers loving their thighs

under the rusty playground slides

 

I tripped on broken windowpanes

To laugh until my lungs broke through

My temple of loose ***** xylophones

Crickets co-wrote my backyard requiem

My ears were sauce packets

Filled with broken glass microphones

Fast food pottery

 

Yogurt stains swing dance when I close my eyes

The chalk tastes like baby blankets

Horseradish carpenters bleed bitter pellet gun lubricants

I hung fifteen different shades of mustard yellow

So that I couldn’t hear your sandpaper cackle

 

Only your cousin’s frigid toaster

Can understand me

Request permission to use this poem
c
Written by
chaotic-melodic
American
Published
Aug 30, 2010
Lines·Words
36·200
Notes

© Cory McQueen

Permission

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