Posts for June 30, 2022 (page 9)

My cheek rests
on your breastbone,
pale skin on brown,
moonlight
on chocolate
I hear a roar, pull,
a whisper rush, lapse
a fall to hush

In a particular pause
between heartbeats
your breastplate rib cage
my ear, in the dip, there,
caught, released I rise
through undertow, ebb

Like I lean
to a conch
pearly pink, just so,
molecules sing
to my inner ear, pass
the tiniest hammer
anvil there, flutter
waves down
my jaw to lips, open

ancient echo ache
of desire, my head
chamber welcomes
wind, water, breath

it’s almost
like that

Rain,
great gusts
of sweat and torment fall
all around me while you swim
away

in channels
fraught with treacherous
currents that flow past eddies
where pictures of you, me — us
dissolve.

look at this
you are a painting.
colors, blended oils,
without a brush perfect
enough to capture your laughter.
the way you grab my hand
and see me, silhouetted
like nobody else has ever
touched me. because
you are saturdays,
with silver reflected mirrors
on back roads with temperatures
too cold to roll up windows.
i read you my words
you wipe tears
on my face and laugh.
firefly backdrop so close,
but untrappable—
full caution behind their wings.
i disregard the alarms
because saturdays are
every day with you

The poet gets on a train going somewhere, looks for her characters.

I saw a nest laying on the ground
Not a bird or an egg could be found
It was once on the ledge of a church
I imagine if they speak it would say cherp, cherp, cherp
I took a walk the other day
I saw a bird’s nest – it was in my way
A bird or an egg I could not say.