Funny all the cracks that made your surface
interesting, once upon a time have filled in now
with dirt and grime and no amount of scrubbing
can restore them
Leonard Cohen left us blissful
mirror-gazing at each other, dancing
long and slow, until the end
until the end and we were
cavernous, and gaunt like insects, exoskeletons
the mismatched eyes were watching everything
and slit the throats
of all our memories, bled them dry and left us screaming
hey Ophelia
Please come back
home.
In case you missed it, I’m working on my second book, another collection of words. This is going to be the first piece in the collection; there’s a story behind it, but I’m not telling it here. If I decide to tell, I’ll put it in the book. This was originally written in early November, 2010.
and indecipherable grin
laid out your magic hands
offered something like a sacrifice
something like a gift
something
undefined
you are a tragedy
waiting to happen
you are every single thing
i’ve walked away from
you are the monsters in my bed
you are the ghosts inside my closet
you are the shadows, bright and vicious teeth
waiting by the door
you are the night
you are imagination
incarnate
you are terror, secrets, rage-
you are
none of these.
you are the soundtrack
barely audible
singing me to sleep
you are the space and time between
that lets me breathe
you are the long, slow walk
between then and now
you are breath and taste and waiting
for again.
April Fox 