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when it hurts, hurts like
the sound of a lost dog in the valley of lost dogs like the face of a doll in the valley of broken dolls, begin where shoulders meet ribs reach back butterfly your width expose the dark side of your heart to the warm footsteps of starlight and then let fall the rest disassemble all the moving pieces of your awkwardness bare the square inch of self-hatred creched in your chin the chip caught between collar and diaphragm the delicate screws of shame holding fast the inner thigh let it all go fall screwlessly apart & with the essential of you unhinged at last will you realize the architect you imagined as yourself captain of this ship now as truly no more than the sound of the winds dancing? even when it is snowing
somewhere a spare patch of ground a shoot of green grass a cherry blossom a bird that has forgotten south your face turning toward me slightly. I wonder why we need
this day this single red jot when each day all day long my heart bows like an elephant to receive its riders when each day the sun burns burns burns its hydrogen rose for my face when each day the mitochondria light their tiny bonfires in the smallest parts of me and dance around them like satyrs. if I am ever emptied of kisses bury me for I am dead. if my hands fail to imagine run of jawline curve of hip if my sundial eyes fail to track the angle of my longing across this rich earth if I cease planting flowers and lie down in the wasteland of giftshops in the valley of busted sternums please let me save a prayer one frail poem a benediction to you who will arrive and murder this foolish day with a kiss that will not end. I will wait for the morning
without my hat or socks without one stitch of clothing wearing nothing but my eyelids everything in this day will be my friend I will shake hands with it all face-plant and soft-glide alike I will slide into this world the way a sick man slides into a hot bath the way a bear insinuates itself into a forest the way lovers merge their surrendered breath. I'm a snowman its true
the ice has crawled over my sleep has wrestled my heart to the floor and massaged it into a popsicle the carrot to replace my frostbitten nose my eyes always were lumps of coal the hat--I have no excuses for that hat now that I am only allowed to move at night now quietly I rearrange the furniture of drifts lathe icicles out of boredom summon the silence that comes with blizzards fuck with your travel plans (heh. it's a job.) what I really desire though will kill me all over again a warm kiss the equator of a bed if you see my breath frosting your window let me in I will melt on your floor slide under your pink hands like holy water. |
Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
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Unless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
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