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Julianna Eisner Mar 2014
Patterns form across convex corneas
Geometric portraits of tangram animals
Hexagonal-faced lions
Triangular-trunked elephants
etc.
Tessellations of
anagrams
Draped over rods like Batik fabric smoothed over king-sized beds
Calculating Bayesian probability on fingertips
rote
styles
Whispering, "Carry the 1!" to columns of 100s
with a remainder? Try again.
Plot Cartesian coordinates with mechanical pencils
click! click! click!
Crying, "Awwwww.....
                                  you
                                        sunk
                                                my
                                                     battleship!"
Voice  over: "You sunk his battleship!"
purr together

   chrysalis
     of skin

tangram of
                 bones

corrugated teeth

and     ping-pong     ball
   elbows

in sync

crackling like
radio
   static

   as fingers
dribble
   over the   frets
     of our spines

psychedelic eyes
lips charged

our   fragile frames
     moving

   fluid
Written: July 2016.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
Athira Vijayan Aug 2020
How I am aware of each of your moves,
Undoubted
Your fingers drawing my imperfections so flawless
The inexorable yet calm breathes
Like scared ghosts in haunted rooms
Our teeth trying to elude the fated collisions
But tongues worn out of untying themselves
Sometimes lost in the abyss of your elfin face
Sometimes returning with a smidgen of yourself
I could feel the earth stopping it's boring rotation
And resolving to a rhythmic oscillation
My eyes burn from the ocean over my eyelids,
The knots in my chest untangling with it's each beat
As if the pernicious inhabitants started to vacate their indefinite abode
Our rained bods sailing,unbridled, to the irreparable wounds,
Caressing them to axe the pain we cached so perfect
The meekness of your kiss edging the reality a little further each time
The familiar savour of yours filling my nostrils
Elating my senses and drowning me in it
I close my eyes, hard , in a rapture of pain
And hang to the hollows of your ridge

Do your craters ache?
But we now look like parts of a one
Perfectly glued to finish the tangram.

— The End —