I glanced at an old polaroid of us,
it belonged on the corner
of my writing desk
months ago

I don’t know how fond memories
are becoming so distant,
how the colors are fading
from warm to dull

like I won’t remember
anything, soon

even red lipstick
leaves a mark on your skin
when you try to wipe it off
and you’re left with
a cherry stain

I want an after dinner poem
Because they are so delicious
A poem on a pillow
And one after I do the dishes

I want a poem for breakfast
Cause they are so mentally nutritious

But most of all
I want you in my poetry
Because you are the best
Poem I could read

Form in figure fitting perfectly
Moving and talking to me
You are poetry in motion
You are artistry in thought
You are the queen of my desire
Because you make my poems
Shockingly hot

So write me a love poem
A poem of love lost
A poem of philosophy
Of such sweet sophistry
And what you have gained
And all that it cost

Give me a biographical picture
Or a nature walk

I want a poem
That is the truth of you
And in exchange
I will give you the poetry of names
And call you humanity

Lay me down
      in those fields  
         of silken flowers
        where the buzzing
        over our heads
       whirls us into
   lightspun holy
my dress a metaphor
for loneliness
as you lift it off
and let it disintegrate
into the evening's
electric ether
your lips
    undoing the tight
       leather laces
        that have held my
     heart in place
until now
Now.
undo them
   in unfurled totality
let my feminine essence
drip, in non-verbal words
onto your fingers
let my elements
   light you up
    from within
firebrand sunset
in molten metallic sheen
indigo lip of ocean
melding into crackling
            hiss of earth
               and humming
                   under this
                dark rich loam
              tiny vibrating buds
     sprout from fossils
trilobites become
hazy with new moss
seething insects
lay eggs and spawn
feeling the bloodpulse,
that simmer of surface
in slick magnet energy
Curled stems of wild
poppies and zinnia
tie down my wrists
snake around my thighs
clasp my
tender-***** ankles
as if to open me
up even more
than I thought
            my soul
                   could go
and I do not resist
for soon they will
accompany you
as you decorate my
deepest womb
              with blossoms          
filling me with your
soul's seed
your musk-scented fervor
nestled, subaqueous
into the root of
my sweet
       deep
of  
  need

You remind me of
The cold morning breeze
Embracing my skin
Through the rays of the sun.

You remind me of
The colors of the setting sun
Slowly transforming
Beyond my eyes.

You remind me of
A cup of coffee
Keeping me warm
On a cold night.

You remind me of
The moon shining so bright
With the stars resting
Up in the night sky.

You remind me of
A lot of things
In a lot of ways
In each waking moment.

You are
In everything,
Everywhere,
And in between.

Lost games
Longer lost rules
Night-time crimes
Lungs full
Of pungent smoke
Bellies full of *****
And heads full of
Something
And nothing

A kind of homage
To a kind of music
Riding across vinyl
And even crackling shellac
And the dead man's foot
Still taps inside the coffin
Refusing to relinquish
The hard-wired hammer
The outlaw life
Is hard in the dying

                                    By Phil Roberts