I was looking at your chest x rays on the lighted wall
Your straight spine centered behind your rounded ribcage
Looks like busted churchgates
from all the times you let your ghosts go
And there are bees buzzing in your shoulders only
you aren't cold this time
So much faith in what I do with words
Willing to love me like a half written gospel
we are filling in as we go
And I want to write us poetry
like the first man was asked to play the first piano
Come
dance with me to my deathbed
I am afraid
That one day I might kiss you
like a deaf stethoscope
that no longer hears your heart
That this language will grow stale
Along with your faith in me
but my knees
are riverbeds for prayer
And I carry my chest heavy like a library
full of books that hate the silence
You should know that
being a poet is more than just a choice
and maybe my body is like a library
but when I pray to you
I'll never use my inside voice
Just like I know that god used nails
to make the iron in your blood stream
That you'll be strong even when you're old
and even then
I still want you to believe in me
When we are like trains that no longer run the tracks
when we've fully mapped the topography of our bodies
But some days
our engine chests come back
and I write a poem about you that is new
And you listen
To my huff and rumble
you lift your tea and saucer with shaking hands
I close my eyes
and hear our train coming
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
I was looking at your chest x rays on the lighted wall
Your straight spine centered behind your rounded ribcage
Looks like busted churchgates
from all the times you let your ghosts go
And there are bees buzzing in your shoulders only
you aren't cold this time
So much faith in what I do with words
Willing to love me like a half written gospel
we are filling in as we go
And I want to write us poetry
like the first man was asked to play the first piano
Come
dance with me to my deathbed
I am afraid
That one day I might kiss you
like a deaf stethoscope
that no longer hears your heart
That this language will grow stale
Along with your faith in me
but my knees
are riverbeds for prayer
And I carry my chest heavy like a library
full of books that hate the silence
You should know that
being a poet is more than just a choice
and maybe my body is like a library
but when I pray to you
I'll never use my inside voice
Just like I know that god used nails
to make the iron in your blood stream
That you'll be strong even when you're old
and even then
I still want you to believe in me
When we are like trains that no longer run the tracks
when we've fully mapped the topography of our bodies
But some days
our engine chests come back
and I write a poem about you that is new
And you listen
To my huff and rumble
you lift your tea and saucer with shaking hands
I close my eyes
and hear our train coming
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