Monday, November 25, 2013
i keep everything i long to say, but don't.
i am as pleasant and sweet as a drink of anti-freeze--
kiss me, i hold thirty-two volcanoes.
it turned cold, but you had your scarf,
your soft gloves,
your navy pea coat;
what did you need me for?
longing cracks my bones open
as if they had been dropped from height by birds.
impossibility is a handy rock--
the blood-heart in the white shell.
i am a love letter written in angel spit,
misdelivered into hell.
i thought of you last night
there is no other mercy like your hair, your voice, your body;
i am krakatoa
i am a siberian fireball--
my ribs lay flattened for miles,
they heard my stupid whimpering on the streets of paris,
and the skies over new york stayed dusky and dark at noon.
i'm just a girl,
in love with you.
you have a husband you keep close like a voodoo doll--
you hang your heart on him like a blue star.
here is my smile,
empty and harmless.
here are my words, crimson-black on the page,
and when they hit the sea, the sea boils
and every beautiful creature
every humble shell
is turned to ashes with the expression of my useless flow of sorrow.
image from weheartit.com