Caught midslide against a notch in the thread
Strung oily from thunder to sludge,
Between a grunt and your claim of cry,
This glass bead only cracks,
Never sighs; dust facet finality,
I remember your nerve endings—
Charred, yearning. I wrapped their vines
Tight as twine around my throat trunk,
Let them burn the space between my fingers,
The smooth desperate hills of my diaphragm;
The night my only still unbroken pride,
I flipped through the domino pages of cabinet doors
Looking for more tears, the hook of your need
Eroding my last unsevered vertebra
Like cheese.
2/17/09
No comments:
Post a Comment