444 Readings | 2 Ratings

Collection, 2

Pretend that I am dead with you
inside the chamber
While you pull out
the insects, birds in the tall grass
Its the wave in my hair that makes me vomit
with a moth like sensibility

Pinned down to the acrylic frame
anonymously, with your body
vulnerably, with your face
anonymously, as through the internet

like you had been died as a child until the color wears off
showing your china face when you come
like you were spinning an illuminated manuscript
with humming jumping nerves
with your car and the bike rack on top
when I realized it was your working shirt
that led me to compassion

In this way I could own you
like a mother reflected
In the soft face of men
I will hold, while the entirety of you sleeps and you,
you will be tired
because I am in your car,

a rider on a slow plane, on a slow wave home
where you are the predator,
I am not the prey, broken rabbit
that broke your teeth
but if you are nice and ask politely
I will tell your pinned wing
but if you are nice and ask politely
I will tell you a story
Posted 08/11/13
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