1
flumine stretches to the small of her back
as the clock slowly runs off from
twilight to midnight
perfect time for assault but undeclared
say when tugging of hair to expose
the jugular -- that is where you plunge
the message
when biting the lip becomes
predatory, when sweat is the telling
trace putting the clandestine, ******
or easily when hold becomes grip
else it was just estrangement face to face
in the dark, cannot remember features
only textures -- walled up message tongued in all fours as if a crucifix or idle
penitence
2
whoever was steering was just
teaching how to hate, treats as open and
easy target, mapping out what to sequester
and authoring silence as acquiescence.
first trust is given and is thrusting deeper
in hollow grievance. we have no use for it
and so we take it as the first step
out of the door keeping love unharmed
only to be taken in unmindful of its implosion.
3
we then have damage portrayals as if
we have a long divide, or a grueling history,
hit from our blinded sides.
a man from another country could have taken you from this juncture,
but he is somewhere lugging objects
he has no use for in a haul that was meant to
drift him away from sheer possibility
and so we remain here, a promise that things will start to exact relevance, until then
we remain, waiting for our smoke to
dissipate when the last fizz of fire is sounded.
4
you do to me what i do to you
as if polarities are clear reversals
and then back again with hope
so i drink from your mouth what i have
given as your body depletes, your fingers
crenelate as you rebuild your stronghold,
my emptiness a catchbasin of all the
rain growing inside you, your body swollen,
ready to burst and after that
perhaps, forgive.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC
1
flumine stretches to the small of her back
as the clock slowly runs off from
twilight to midnight
perfect time for assault but undeclared
say when tugging of hair to expose
the jugular -- that is where you plunge
the message
when biting the lip becomes
predatory, when sweat is the telling
trace putting the clandestine, ******
or easily when hold becomes grip
else it was just estrangement face to face
in the dark, cannot remember features
only textures -- walled up message tongued in all fours as if a crucifix or idle
penitence
2
whoever was steering was just
teaching how to hate, treats as open and
easy target, mapping out what to sequester
and authoring silence as acquiescence.
first trust is given and is thrusting deeper
in hollow grievance. we have no use for it
and so we take it as the first step
out of the door keeping love unharmed
only to be taken in unmindful of its implosion.
3
we then have damage portrayals as if
we have a long divide, or a grueling history,
hit from our blinded sides.
a man from another country could have taken you from this juncture,
but he is somewhere lugging objects
he has no use for in a haul that was meant to
drift him away from sheer possibility
and so we remain here, a promise that things will start to exact relevance, until then
we remain, waiting for our smoke to
dissipate when the last fizz of fire is sounded.
4
you do to me what i do to you
as if polarities are clear reversals
and then back again with hope
so i drink from your mouth what i have
given as your body depletes, your fingers
crenelate as you rebuild your stronghold,
my emptiness a catchbasin of all the
rain growing inside you, your body swollen,
ready to burst and after that
perhaps, forgive.
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