Sunday, May 20, 2012
it's just a scratch
fear not. I am not all fat, blue, trembling lips.
part of me is actually blushing;selfishly pink.
I am at times, like I was when I was a girl:
all scrapes, all teeth, roaring.
do you remember me this way?
of course you don't.
you never remember anything
even though you were there.
Now the girlish part of me is hoping
what I've said makes you so uncomfortable,
that you itch in only inconvenient places,
and your nails lack the fortitude to scratch.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but...
-
two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked...
-
July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
-
to have sticky pins for fingertips and ballpoint pens for thumbs. then I could fascinate myself to you, and write away doldrums.
-
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
-
Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
-
July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
Cal, For Elizabeth Bishop You are American gossip, Didn't anyone have the heart to tell you? You said yourself, you are fantastic and u...
-
Eyes and skies a fuzzy crystal blue. A sunlit shouldered sensation and smirking hips and lips without vibration a scorched summer driveway ...
No comments:
Post a Comment