Friday, September 26, 2008

This is how I imagine my eyes to look in the darkness as small discerning dots, Eygptian eye of judgement looking down at the place where your face curves perfectly to form handsome. Grab what you can reach in a handful. Pockets full of them.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

A resounding yell through the closed lids of his pillowy face. I have found Her; His one. He thinks: Her back hurts. I will rub it. Her heart aches. I will ointment it. Her mind storms. I will calm it. She is dirty. I will clean Her body with soap from Her own dish.

Try to reach Her, Her see through glass veil of protection won't crumble. Out of arms reach, She will float amongst the screams and cries of Others to hold on! Grab my hand! Come take refuge here with dinners cooked and plans made.

She, not wanting to be put to shop for fixing, has ignored their compassionate conversations and sighs, tears welling up at the sight of Her prodded and poked by the unfairness of living and its seas of tears and the tiny boats of hope that carry its fallen victims across, drenched and shaking but alive against everything wanting them to have died during the whole thing. (falling apart).

She's got nothing left to give, She thinks as Her shining ship takes her, She'll jump out again to drown in the liquid of her lover. It's dark down there, with no waves to wash Her ashore.

She remembers him, cherries in her memory as She sinks down.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Bowls of Fruit

He came upon me. 
Instant.
His eyes were inside of mine 
at dinner.
His lips, two perfect pieces of flesh.
There's His sensuality. caught between
what speaks and sees.
His face turned down with eyes, raspberries
burning through You, pluck one and take it for Yourself. 
Juice on the tips and
falling around. Stickiness 
at the point where your chests meet.
Breathing there, in and over again. He
leaves, touching the bottom on your soul.
It died. She started smoking again. She
screams his name on paper- Mister. Sir. Pancake,
there He is as perfectly flawed in her mind
as the day She first saw
His eyes and honeyed skin. 

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

No keys, just a key ring
where she's going now, She
won't need them. She'll
get new ones when she gets
There, on Her own. 

Saturday, September 6, 2008

She stares at his name under received calls. It's Sunday. He had wanted Her then, sober as morning tea together with naked legs crossing one over the other until Her lips were on the bottom of His ear and on the skin just underneath. She followed that line up to His cheek bones and around His eyes. The tip of His perfectly sloped nose. Lips. Twice. The second one fuller than the first and down to His collar bones. One, two, three kisses across in length. She sat up to take Him all in, his skinny body, the meat on His arms, His closed eyes. She thought She could remember Him like that in Her bed, vividly, for Her next thirty living years.