"undersaturated" poems
You were the anti-glow.
A ball of soot, sunk
in pools of polyester.
You dented the lines of your
encyclopedia - ingested
images of the panther, the puma
and sat somewhere between
black ant and black bear
hibernating under towels of burnt tulle.
You fell off pastel lines
into charcoal smudge,
undersaturated, a pen-test-scribble,
a parachute in negative space
to protect your smoke-wisped skull.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
Chicken scratch
scrawled across my arm
Lanced into skin
Laced upon flesh,
Written in blood,
The story
Hidden beneath the cover of light
Undersaturated camera lenses
Erase scars and cover blemishes,
Cover the blood on my hands
The scars engraved on my left hand
Placed there carefully by my right hand
Lies only go so far,
I carve the truth on my bones
Dancing fingers
Across the duvet
Crippled but still the
Piano they play
Trembling fingers
Rubbing in lotion
Onto dried skin
Chapped by the ocean
Where oh where have my
Finger gone?
Where! Oh where! Have my
Fingers gone?
Scarred fingers give way
To scarred little stumps,
Worn down to the bone
And past it still
Grinding wheel
Spun too far
The world stole my fingers
The world stole my heart
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC