It aches, the starving part. Unthink the practised gossamer waif, curled inward into balanced bone. It is a swollen, jaundiced curse, broad and malignant, slipping sweetly through the vein to settle in addiction. The arrhythmia of nearly but not never quite, still too round thick, spilling everywhere. Feed it, the starving. Stuff it to bursting…
Tag: Poetry
Adam’s Apple
To boys of blue: you must not cry,for yours is but to do and die;to march without the dire complexand folly of the weaker sex. The world that you were born intohas spaces carved out just for you,ripe with fruit fit for your pleasure—pick and plunder at your leisure. Power over crafted creatures,(fragile forms with…
A Sickness
It’s in the way we bloomed togetherand in the way that we fell apart:Wound tightly and scraping against the softest parts as we’d claw and lick and sting and soothe. All that’s left now are the ugliest parts. The looming shadow of two naked vultures circling each other in anticipation, plucking out feathers to keep…
for love of butterflies
In order to loveI havesurrendered the part of myselfwith the softest and most delicateskin. A simple touch will bruise andif the nails are sharp they cancomfortablytear it apart. Mine is a prayerwhispered quietly intomirrored hands. Yours isan explosivebursting with the potential toscatter me.
The Love Eaters
Dear Friend, when was it you began to fear solitude? To see the entry and exit of blood and breath, the coming and going of life and death as waste if performed in the absence of a lover’s face; From the start, were the spaces between our fingers spread apart to make us crave the…
Lamb to Slaughter
I set my heart between your teethto fulfill Delphic prophecy;slit my throat and slowly bledwhile chanting prayers in my head. Gouged out my offending eyesto strip off pretense and disguise,set them at your burning alter—these first sins of Adam’s daughter. When was it that I misspoke?What ancient rite did you invoketo carve me up as…
Stranger, Stranger
In truth, it starts to ache at times— The wear and tear of all these years stripped and laid bare eventually. Anchored at first by steady hands, rough sand smoothed into fragile gems that stem and then flower beautifully. Was it then that we first learned to lie? Blinding words of trust and submission as…
Reason to Stay
because I am born and I die in the open and close of your eyes — in that dream there is hope for a love more beautiful than this
The River
There is a river beside the trees that flows around the broken glass and hurries through the trays of ash that choke the birds and fumble words and smother all the roses. It winds around the crumbling brick, surging past half-painted walls and echoing through empty halls to wane and crash break back and splash…
The Cradle and the Crow
They are forged not birthed, the little girls with toes dipped in the grave, preyed upon by old crows perched on cradles, picking at dead flesh. In that sea of blood and half-life the pages of your holy book have grown damp. The trumpet has gone mute, and so you must carve your interpretation between…
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