He asked me then
as we stared at the strawberries
lit in the fluorescent grocery store lighting
adjacent in their plastic coffins
red and ripe
clearly evesdropping

“do you love me?”

I hadn’t ever thought about it before
but I guess I did.

“but are you in love with me?”

their green stems were a reminder of home
their severed ends a scar of the violence they endured
yellow seeds clinged to their polished red bodies
the small taste of bitter to remind you,
nothing can be that sweet all the time

I cocked my head to one side
They had me captivated
I wanted their taste
Their raw delicious flesh

$5.99?

****. Too much.



“No.


                                              I’m not in love with you.”




Oh, thank God.

The blueberries are on sale.

The bath water
is the colour of my eyes;
yet, I don't know
which is wetter.

"Didn't find anything,
to be as peaceful and satisfying as
raging war against the thoughts
in my head
that pester me to adore my past." *
             Huh!!
With every passing hour that you let
yourself dream,
you stab your own heart
with your very hand &
relish the thought of bleeding
at your own convenience.
Then Gradually, I knew
the words I wrote
to make you everlasting,
imprint of my love...
will be my burial ground
dug by your very hands.

my spine curls
third party
two bodies
one body
oh
X

I stand with the living
under a smoke filled pavilion
where shots of whiskey fill tall glasses
and dogs run free

Someone sings my eulogy on a karaoke machine
children color my headstone with
Sapphire Blue and Burnt Orange #10

The music of my dying
sweeps across the gaping earth on a dusty wind
fills it with the voices of the living

My children fly kites in the field
yelling out the stories of their births

You were born in a snowstorm
You were born under a full moon
I was born at sunrise!  the baby yells

The kites swirl, tangle
fall

They huddle and cry
I feel the world crack open

Remember me, whispers the dust

The way he blows the smoke out
his eyelids slightly lowering
I know he wants me

I touch my finger to the rim of the glass
tell another lie

There’s a way people draw things out of you
in strange places
veils lift
change
find new faces

All night he’s watched me behind a screen of smoke

And then the temperature reached one-hundred-and-ten, I say
so I just rappelled the rest of the way down naked

I look at him
lick the salt on my finger

Surprise crosses my face
not salt
but pomegranate sugar
sweet
the color of blood

He pulls my hand to his lips
his tongue a thick slug of suction
compressing my finger to the roof of his mouth

Teeth graze my knuckle

For several seconds
my eyes can’t rotate

Accuracy of your acrostic arrows,
Ride the wind with utmost ease.
Claiming each bulleye with poetic precision,
Hands steady, unswayed by the errant breeze.
Endowed with talent, unsurpassed finesse,
R**egarded by peers as the wise-worded wiz.