bolero
the room is hard
wood covered
in carnations
your breastbone
is an aching
hook
my waiting fat
like glistening
aloe vera on
a shampoo bottle
this matrix
obsesses me
gives itself
new names for me
cleaves in
to a chess
a checkerboard
battleships
concealed from one
another
and pins
everywhere
crimson pins
i twitch like a pigeon
4 thoughts on "bolero"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
The poem invites you in, then challenges you with its imagery. Nice work.
I’m struggling a bit with the dramatic situation here, River—just not sure what the setting is or what’s going on—but your language carries me along with you, as usual. Is the glass half empty or half full? Maybe both.
Another fine poem! Love “your breastbone/is an aching/hook!” Very visual images. Keep writing!
The final twitch like a pigeon is such a striking close!