"threadworms" poems
I write you to sleep
in the other room
the leaves and fire of
your dream wisdom,
a dosha to create
each particular function
wrought in sweet, bitter, uncanny can-can
last night I saw you
in the rain with my
jean jacket
you asked about your face
and read me
catholic gospel/the body’s innate wisdom
free of threadworms, windup toys,
each nasty gut of wind
when I love you
I always see you in white
(this is all the time)
and you clear the toxins
from my accounts,
hold up my husband by
his flags,
tell him to
*woosh
woosh
woosh*
there is a pearl at
the bottom of us
and we touch it with
un-bitten fingers
this essential does not
go unnoticed in
our hearts but
ties our mouths so
we cannot speak—
a grammar lesson on love
and checkmate of birdwings
you awaken
come out for your phone
tell you to go back to sleep
you smile
I have so much to love god for
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 9:30 AM UTC
She lived in a cupboard under the stars
Crouched and curled, laid out like the twisting Milky Way
Twinkling and breathing and playfully sighing to herself
Her fingers drew clouds in the rotting wood
And knew all of their names
She passed the time by piercing holes in the sky
And seducing the moon with whispers, epithets and subtle gestures
She drew secrets from passing birds
Teasing them out like threadworms
Softly winding them around her hair
Putting them to her ear to listen
Before swallowing each morsel
Drawing her hands down on to her lap
Unpicking her scars
To find a hiding place
For 12 years she remained there
Until there came a voice at the door
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC