PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

11/1/11

if there's space left on this planet to be alone in
it will be in soft light. I cannot think
without the hum of my own feet
but cannot walk in every shallow pool
you treat your body as. Lately I have only the simple words
to squeeze my body through

you've watched me try to scrape these eggshells
longer than the
lamplight would suffer my existence. Wretching
endlessly in the soft moan of alarm that
holds the brain inside the head. With the weight of words
I cannot depress enough of the vessels in your body. They remember
only briefly that first soft light we found each other in.

I have all the words and dresses
I shouldn't have. Skirts
surround me like some elaborate snare
that decided instead to be a dancer. You don't understand this
even in the thick strokes of the afternoon. You mope
constantly, afraid. There will be no bright light
like God's teeth. Our lives are
candles in a maelstrom
changing into a residue. What shape will you take
when you again become a dancer
spread as wide as a split oak?