We sat blowing shapes in the smoke
and twirling insubstantial rings
around our fingers like wedding vows
I do, I do, until the end of this cigarette
Til ash do us part, my flame-ridden bride,
my raspybreathed king---still
and quiet in the little
cruelties stacked between us
wooden-faced as Russian dolls
growing smaller and meaner
in cold smoke curled round shoulders
space between shivers
contrary wispcat, blueblack cracks
in the universe and veins of a wrist
black to blue
rubber to glue
you’ll always keep chasing me away
and I, like a rubber band,
snap back because I’m
sorry
I spilled cereal on the floor
and crunched it up with bare feet
cracked the martini glass
into so many pieces it didn’t look
like danger
but hard raindrops on scuffed tile
sorry
redwhiteblue America strobes
are scary, you’re not in the club
it was dark and you wanted
to go home---you still want to go
home---but without the blue-uniformed stranger
or the guy who bruised his fingerprints on your waist
sorry
for wearing dreams of romance like perfume
on pressure points, curling my tongue
around pain pills with wishes that
can't put out thunderstorms
and mend the gaps in a sidewalk
sorry
(and this was back when i cried for a
bandaid, any at all, for surface cuts)
we wanted to look
for truths in picture books
and lies in the law
because life is so much better as a cartoon
with our speech planned in bubbles
sorry
that when we were little
I thought rivers were small
because the blue veins mapping your wrist
were water to me
then I let you fall into, y’know,
that real emotional condition
where life was written in rules
chubby fingers & a Bic stick pen
sorry I didn’t leave a post-it
just a crumpled up coat
and the smell of smoke
when my footsteps burned a river
blazing outside and away.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
We sat blowing shapes in the smoke
and twirling insubstantial rings
around our fingers like wedding vows
I do, I do, until the end of this cigarette
Til ash do us part, my flame-ridden bride,
my raspybreathed king---still
and quiet in the little
cruelties stacked between us
wooden-faced as Russian dolls
growing smaller and meaner
in cold smoke curled round shoulders
space between shivers
contrary wispcat, blueblack cracks
in the universe and veins of a wrist
black to blue
rubber to glue
you’ll always keep chasing me away
and I, like a rubber band,
snap back because I’m
sorry
I spilled cereal on the floor
and crunched it up with bare feet
cracked the martini glass
into so many pieces it didn’t look
like danger
but hard raindrops on scuffed tile
sorry
redwhiteblue America strobes
are scary, you’re not in the club
it was dark and you wanted
to go home---you still want to go
home---but without the blue-uniformed stranger
or the guy who bruised his fingerprints on your waist
sorry
for wearing dreams of romance like perfume
on pressure points, curling my tongue
around pain pills with wishes that
can't put out thunderstorms
and mend the gaps in a sidewalk
sorry
(and this was back when i cried for a
bandaid, any at all, for surface cuts)
we wanted to look
for truths in picture books
and lies in the law
because life is so much better as a cartoon
with our speech planned in bubbles
sorry
that when we were little
I thought rivers were small
because the blue veins mapping your wrist
were water to me
then I let you fall into, y’know,
that real emotional condition
where life was written in rules
chubby fingers & a Bic stick pen
sorry I didn’t leave a post-it
just a crumpled up coat
and the smell of smoke
when my footsteps burned a river
blazing outside and away.
rough-ish draft of something
Request permission to use this poem