She is dressed like an unmarked bottle of tequila
Smuggled and homemade
There's some dirt on your cheek
Leave it there
Out here looks good on you
There is the crunch and scrape
of dirt in the threading
little pebbles against my teeth
I spit them out onto a smooth portion of cement
Pray that in the blurr
I can read divinity
in the way the dirt falls
Another swig and I am heart heavy
Like scrap metal
and old houses
like fat sacks of glowing mercy
She smiles like a pipedream
of twisted shining copper
She speaks in head spin
This is what it feels like when god talks to you
without killing you
She says
You are not in the business of
feeling sorry for yourself
Name the year
This is the year of the shedding of weight
The year of the cutting in half
The year of shaking the dust
From the fragile places
Wiping the dirt from the threading
even if you have to use your own mouth
so you can finally seal yourself
without worrying if it will hurt this time
The year of hotmess
And young love
The year of leaving
This is the year
Not where everything is lost
But a new lightness is gained
In the way you can walk away
So pull your heart out from the rubble
of the past
This is the year of being charming
The year of fist fights and no regrets
The year where you finally understand
what it means to be honest
This is the year of shaking the dust
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 1:51 PM UTC
She is dressed like an unmarked bottle of tequila
Smuggled and homemade
There's some dirt on your cheek
Leave it there
Out here looks good on you
There is the crunch and scrape
of dirt in the threading
little pebbles against my teeth
I spit them out onto a smooth portion of cement
Pray that in the blurr
I can read divinity
in the way the dirt falls
Another swig and I am heart heavy
Like scrap metal
and old houses
like fat sacks of glowing mercy
She smiles like a pipedream
of twisted shining copper
She speaks in head spin
This is what it feels like when god talks to you
without killing you
She says
You are not in the business of
feeling sorry for yourself
Name the year
This is the year of the shedding of weight
The year of the cutting in half
The year of shaking the dust
From the fragile places
Wiping the dirt from the threading
even if you have to use your own mouth
so you can finally seal yourself
without worrying if it will hurt this time
The year of hotmess
And young love
The year of leaving
This is the year
Not where everything is lost
But a new lightness is gained
In the way you can walk away
So pull your heart out from the rubble
of the past
This is the year of being charming
The year of fist fights and no regrets
The year where you finally understand
what it means to be honest
This is the year of shaking the dust
Request permission to use this poem