"hashes" poems
Here from the first time, from the day I lost my virginity, look:
I have carved out the notches in secret on this headboard.
The wood a dark brown, daintily placed at the head of my twin bed.
The tallies face the wall, the romance is dead.
In the middle among the marks, this deeper divot,
Where the grains turn to slivers: that is the day my heart broke.
I can recount the exact moment and tell you now as I trace it over,
His name, his smile, pained me far longer then it should have.
The smaller hashes that follow, all six of them, meant nothing.
See, there is no pattern, except for the fact that they made it to bed.
Over time, as it occurred, I chiseled away not only the headboard -
But my heart. Too many notches for my fingers and toes.
See, here, that was revenge, and here, he's now an angel.
A multitude of sin runs through it all.
See, this headboard is whittled nearly end to end;
Perfectly untouched on one side, badly beaten on the other.
Regrets have created it, tucked between the sheets.
Yet, as I make the bed I can't help but smile,
Sign after sign, there will be another.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
I want to understand
Mechanics banned
From working right
Under a thumb, light
Strokes dark
Mark down another thing
Throw away another ring
Sing low another dirge
Die a little, emerge
From ashes
Another plan hashes
Another man dashes
Cashes in on my desperation
Precipation makes things grow
Throw away another ring
Notice, again, another ding
Mark down anther thing
On and on
All this greets every dawn.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
We are that which hashes
her
That which expends her swirling muscled tones
That which chisel at
this four-by-four;
her cedar
a vessel desecrated.
We are terse,
we are pixels projecting this
dance—
Her steady plateau
Her watery eyes
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC