you’re wild eyed and
doleful and
absolutely
beautiful.

an encumbrance to my chastity.
you mention  my smile
is bright and sharp,
threatening to steal the star’s
twinkling thunder.
rocks come unraveling but I’m focused on your
mouth.
you move closer and I
move behind something.
three billion comets crash the sky.
I’m focused on my knees.
my mouth is a river of whispers;
body deep blue and
impenetrable.
your crystal eyes flare when you
talk.

Look up!

the moon has caught fire.

your hand retreats from my lower back
and I glare at the adversary that has stolen a second of my night.
today is special for two reasons so
I stay crouched and
the sky twinkles like jaundice and I
retreat
to a past life.

I look like a year ago Sunday,
like a shadow of a hugless child,
a big, bawling bowl of acerbic bone ash,
like a forest fire fixed in a flicker
caught in a speck of my dead brother’s eye.
I look like a mirror of someone
watching her own upsurge
of implacable sorrow.
sorry,  I let go of his hand.
I’m always so sorry.
so hurriedly racing memories against my
own borrowed time;
so sharp and sore and
mostly unheard,
so tangled in pieces of us.
so now what?

So now you play mortar:
you keep it together
so I can  finally come undone.
I’ve always got running shoes
and an idea
and one rolling tear I’ve got to get
away from.
so very torn,
so splintered and hefty,
so tempted to hold this
just as it was that
final Christmas
but I’m too
slippery palms and
(so God can you hear me?)
soft-eyed and strident and
(so help if you’re near me)
sidelong gazing and first uncontrolled movement
of the century
(so come back to hold me)
and I am absolutely
inconsolable.

 

“lyrids”

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