"extemporization" poems
there is a girl who lives inside my bones
she hibernates in my heart
she burrows beneath my ribcage
[she tears and claws to escape]
her eyes cut through me like knives
her fingers play the same two chords
my veins are her keys
[she whispers into my ear as i sleep]
she has tiny bird bones
and she keeps the salt underneath the bed
it takes longer to make the monsters leave our body
[but they always do]
she never comes when i am alone
she appears at night
she knows she isn't welcome
[she stays in hopes that i'll run back to her]
her small hands hold me down
fragile fingers lace my throat
she won't give up until she's done
until my lungs collapse
and i erupt like a solar flare
[and i don't blame her]
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
I've written the word "you" countless times
to represent countless people
on countless pages
as I've aged I've become unable to place
exactly which "you"
belonged to who
because
Y
O
U
was easier to write down
than the names of the subjects
I knew I shouldn't be proud of
they all blur together
the faces
the letters
the shame I ignored
the love that I forced
the chapters in my life
I was too ashamed to identify
but one thing is clear
through all the past-poetry-opaqueness:
I know I'll never struggle to place
the word for the sound of rain
the laugh that sounds like a hearth
the effortless extemporization
the sound of your beating heart
June.
even the four letters of your own name
could never do justice
to the beauty of your being
that no word can capture
no dialect, no vernacular
you are more complex
than language
than pen on paper
and that is why I love writing about you
June,
I know I'll never get it right
but god ****
do I want to try.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 1:21 AM UTC