Friday, May 23, 2008

dewella


i bet you taste like strawberty lip gloss
sweet and sticky, humidity rising beneath your
sun-kissed skin
blushed bright and shining, with a speck of winter
grey hiding in the back of your throat,
the back of my mind
jane, the peculiar soul twin of a girl with a hidden
map behind her eyes

two left feet, timid, tongue-tied
you'd guess i talk in circles to keep in time, to keep
in line
and i'd sit back and let you capture these thoughts if
i knew how to streamline them, reign them in
tie them up in a chocolate sundae surprise
wax lyrical about the bend of your toes
the peach coloured shadows that travel and outline the
room beyond

or perhaps it would be about something larger
our own little state of the union
etched into our skin, under a blue frayed sheet
the window propped open by an overdue library book
pages earmarked, torn, wet from the bath
you know i'm even clumsy with other people's words,
don't you?

yeah, and i guess you still know how i feel,
all my coffee covered wisdom tooth nonsense,
a parade of distractions, elephants and daisy chain
poems written on the back of my cigarette pack,
thrown away before i could give it to you,
a kiss on your shoulder,
meant to fall down
deeper still

and these seconds are remarkable,
whispers and
breaths,
green and yellow, blue,
two palm trees and a neon sign,
a different utterance,
a new life, line, listless wonder and awe
you can see it if you squint,
stand on one foot, hold
your breath
there is a window in the back,
two pillows and a
stereo
you can read the pages then,
and lie back

i just want to see if you can read my lips, this time
and feel them land

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