Use me. Define me. Stencil me, if you can.
Count me on your abacus.
Why I never say hello, you know the answer.
I only wish you would tell me it.
It’s the bridge that I could never cross, even once I had arrived.
It’s the raspberries in my cheekbones and the chocolate I eat while I cry.
You always say I have the best food. (It’s me, it was always me.)
And I lied. I don’t cry anymore.
Break my teapot. Flesh me out.
My fingers have no thoughts these days.
Smashed eyelashes, my whispering belly.
Reeling in my first fish, tears as bait.
I don’t blame you.
I was beautiful.
Kissing clocks and the faces of our knees,
They never seemed so futile. (Chasing white rabbits was always enough.)
Gardens in the small of my back and bleak cities on my brow.
I just wonder why you won’t plant me a tree.
I could really use some oxygen right now.
Sing me the story, teach me the song.
About the way my toes'll curl under with someone else’s love.
The arrondissements and the sunflowers I know I’ll see alone.
Do people get tired of changing?
Do you believe in blank slates?
Tell me your thesis. (Oh, oh, your personal examples.)
Please win me over, I want to surrender.
I was never all that good with guns to start.
Crumple some paper, crinkle my bones.
Have my words all eloped in secret with you?
Curtains and couches and the fact that you won’t settle down.
What do you call a three and a half minute harmonica solo?
Knock me sideways and gnaw me near.
Kick me closer, force my flush.
I don’t want some pretentious, artificial gain.
Brush away my misconceptions. Tell me what remains.
No comments:
Post a Comment