Some sturdy–lipped dish it is, holding my heart upon the stump to catch the dredges as 5 times with the razor–edged axe you strike precisely cordoning it into 10 wedges. I swoon as you daintily indulge each bite, dousing each sliver in its pulp before each tear when your incisors sink into my flesh; when you swallow, it is my heart’s contentment.
Category: Poems
-
Segmentation
–––––––
-
Those troubled nights I could not sleep I fretted away in anguish while my jackass soul refused to drink. I could have embraced them as their lover, conversed with them about my secret life over a midnight snack, and gone out and taken in the stars, even unto the dawn.
Nighttime Remorses
–––––––
-
My still heart beating around my fixed gaze, mischievous imp mocks me, places a bow in my manikin hand and an arrow in my wooden fingers. His ruddy flesh fashions my limbs into a dangerous tension. In my disbelief I hear his flushed cheeks command: “Take her out!”
OK, Cupid
–––––––
-
What a beautiful corner of the universe I have here. No one take this corner away from me.
-
A Dracula is never a cure for a headache. At times, I need some beautiful soul to drive a wooden stake through my heart to get the point.
Mistaken
–––––––
-
Oh, mama, you laugh at me too much with your knowing smile. What have I got myself into this time? Regard as little tears and snot rubbed all over my sleeve, as if the ripping of my subject from my little hand was all just a bad dream. With loving eyes you take me all in and send me out to recess again.
Knowing Mother
–––––––
-
Nothing worthwhile ever gets done. When it’s finished, where’s the fun? For whom do you want to make this past? Aye, for them with whom we hope we’ll last.
Ditty
–––––––
-
Weary wounds down the sides of the front of my torso raw from my continually cutting you out of my lungs: I had made a bold play of it once; now I stare — take slow gapes of resignation. The fishhooks I withdrew — cut each one in half with my knife — they keep coming; there are so many now. I look up to the sky filtered through the surface of the water; who knows, maybe, of a sudden: Yank.
Gutted
–––––––
-
All I’ve left is me little torch. The grand visions on cave walls descend into darkness. Come. There is enough for two. Let us make a meal of it.
Companionship
–––––––
-
My love for you is like a summer day: a deep blue diamond canvasing the dome of the universe. My love for you is like a blue sky with an occasional cloud hanging by; and, then it is the march of a wall of doom, gray: thunderheads gritting teeth; every drop seeking to dig under dirt; thunderbolts seeking vengeance, declaring it must needs be union: absolute drench even upon its undoing; and, my love is like a summer day.
Grit
–––––––