the idea is small. make it be a poem.
i'll publish them.
lynzepoet@gmail.com
or post one yourself,
in the comments.
the idea is small. make it be a poem.
i'll publish them.
lynzepoet@gmail.com
or post one yourself,
in the comments.
6 comments:
In your hands I am made
and unmade. A tiny doll
spun in the circle of your eye.
Tucked in your dimple
the sparkle from my smile.
You feel like home to me.
Like the shore upon which
the sea arrives
at journey's end.
i know i sing
at the edge
of silence
when the breath after
we breathe says
content. read me
the lines beyond
my eyes in
the dark, the stars
caught in my eyelashes.
the way my hair
feels softer, softly damp
against my pillow.
i have been
struck, i am
a ripple, a movement.
a wave,
i never rest; i
am only a heartbeat,
ceaseless.
lapping at your
shores.
you move me
in toe-curl,
it feels like yes.
voice in my ear
building
perfect distress.
i am a teacup,
rim touching lips,
in your hands
cradled; careful-
draining sips.
sculpted by
fingertips:
your monument, i'm
broken
by your blows.
we rebuild me
each time.
to: you-know-who-you-are -
one of the cruelest people I have ever met in my entire life.
and now
I will
eat
a soft piece of
delicious
nutritious
wonder
bread
&
go back to bed.
if
love is all you
if love is all
you
if love is
all
you
need then
what is need
?
Ode to Nina's Skin
There was her arm, my first rose
holding her while she withdrew
into fever and trembling, my prayers
three buckets of water to clean
her kitchen floor while she slept
how she said she'd bone me
and with what we never kissed
how i swallowed it all
without choking
forever changing my ability
to walk with God
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