Friday, November 11, 2011

untitled

among some talk of you and me
with mint tea at my lips and
strong hands at my back like we were
humming in the dark, together; deeply.
the color of a nighttime ocean.
always telling myself
to stop thinking so much, while rifling through
the one dollar book bin with chipped fingernails
and broken sunglasses, heaved sighs for standing
up and holding a long blink to let the violet
settle in and i saw that moonbeam again and
"and." yes, "and." i think my favorite words is and.
and ain't no worry, it won't be long, she sang,
yes won't be long til
we're drowned at the bottom of the soft blue sea
with heads on seaweed pillows, there for eternity
where your golden mouth will sing forever to me
and amen.
walking up the street again,
and i can smell you on my sleeve like you were
here with me, again the long blink
and amen.
she asked me if my painting was of jacaranda trees
"yes, they are" she said. putting her hair behind her
ear and walked into the kitchen.
warm mint tea.
cascade.
open fist.
nadyne.
sweeping.
running in place like the dirt ground in a faulkner
novel. muddy alleyways and death.
muddy waters.
faces of deep south and wringing out aprons
on porches.
heaven.
oh, purple jacaranda tree,
bending softly to me.
black bark and feeling moss on
the northfacing trunk of
oh guide me home.
repeating my name to
stop thinking so much.
hunched over a one dollar book bin,
chipped nailpolish and broken sunglasses.
standing up. feeling novels between my ears
and clinking bracelets of the cashier.
darkness come early,
the sincerity of whispers,
cooling hot meals, oven mitts.
the color orange.
among this talk of you and me.
among my failed attempts at villanelle's
and sweeping sonnets to the street.
no.
i won't have fake candles or skip chapters;
no, you won't go to paris without me.
no, now i know you'll miss it here.
you'll miss me.
like how i smell you on my sleeve
while standing in the street.
like photocopied pages and tiny
notes in the mail.
verses.
chanel no. 5.
fabric.
fingertips.
cassette tapes.
cardboard cutouts of flowers and
hanging wreaths.
just talk of you and me. mysteries.
skulls and poison, the last lesson.
and my sleeve.

1 comment:

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