Friday, December 22, 2006



that is what i am. no
way to seperate
myself from that definition.
it is where i start
and end.
she is an extension
of the me
i feel when i look
up to the stars
and see the wheeling
blackness reaching out past
the limits
of my mind.
she holds my hand
and brings
me back to me.

opus 13, satie

when i hear it, that far
away sad music played on
a piano out of tune, i can again see
the notes in sunlight lying
across brown carpet. there is
a smell of clean sheets, fresh
flowers, potato soup on
simmer, tasting of innocence and
long sunday picnic afternoons.

my skin longs to hold
that warmth, languid arms
reaching up into dust motes,
shaping satie at a cellular
level, blood pulsing to memory.


she dreamed
there was blood
in her hair. in her
dream she stood naked
under a cold fall
of water in a shower
that was not her own.
the water ran red
but her hair remained
matted and thick. she

woke, sitting tangled
in her bed. breathing
hard. hand over her
mouth to stop
whatever noise that tried
to escape her.
it was a long
wait for sleep again.

No comments:

Post a Comment

i heart you back!