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Cobwebs and Corrugated Dreams
20:28 Feb 25 2008
Times Read: 1,255






At least you were a spectacular asshole,

I tell myself and the heart on my sleeve

As it begins to ache and drive away my sleep again.

I wish you'd never tied it there with the lengths of lies

You wound expertly round my right arm

Like a well disguised tourniquet that kills

What it bandages - your careful, cancerous first aid.



And I mourn.



I startle awake and fumble for the water bottle

I keep on my bedside stand for parched nights

And strangled screams that need to drink.

Are you the old man in the hospital gown,

Barely snapped against my eyes, shuffling

Into the frame of my vision scoped down an amber hall?

A rolling IV cart waits to deliver its dark poison.



And I watch.



Today, I rummaged back through my dented memory,

Digging down into the strata of a well-intended life,

Past scents of citronella and campfire smoke

To where I know I stored your earnest vows.

A backless chair and rusty paint cans

Smudged with pastel shades of happier days

Cauterize my phantom wound, while on my dusty knees



I scream and scream.

Indulgence
15:10 Feb 21 2008
Times Read: 1,307




And the morning wears her wings

While I hitch and haw my way through things

Still wearing last Thursday like a wet towel

Or a tightly trussed monastic cowl,

Cloistering me here with my weathered vows

While the wind beguiles with her wanton wiles,

And I spill coffee on my day, and file my files,

One high heel knifed through the windy boughs.

Dispassion
20:17 Feb 04 2008
Times Read: 2,152

Shall I speak them, then? Words that shine

Like the light filtering through your backyard wood,

Golden and suffused with the magic of all that is mine.

Shall I speak them over the grief you misunderstood?

But all is well with us, my friend.



When you have turned at last to go

When the sun nests low in the far branches there,

Blanketing your broad shoulders with a refined glow,

Shall I speak them then? Soft on my lips, a recited prayer.

And all is well with us, my love.



Shall I speak them when the world is night,

Sliding the lock in place as I close the door?

Speak them to myself and the walls that close in tight

Around who I am, unspoken words standing on a broken floor.

Still all is well with us, my soul.







*apologies to those who left lovely comments here, but I saw an edit I needed to make.