"deboning" poems
with fingers for lips
he slipped underneath
deboning human skin
strung up my ribs on the ceiling
under which we dangled
femurs and phalanges
on super strings
chiming 3-part harmonics
on black galactic wind
him, me, Everything
tender clinks silencing
floored motionless flesh
I was not bones, nor skin
but oms inciting orbital dance
spinning with him invisibly
with heartlids pinned back
pounding the key of eternity
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
the shrill of deboning the wounds,
the daybreaks those scoliotic stems
cling to, the brine we chug in spring
to keep the tender parts green
now frosted in charcoal,
yeasted-over and gargling with ice.
but this is just winter
swelling
and the lights may have gone
burnt but the dimness gapes so beautifully
at night.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC