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Literature Text
somewhere between here and boston
you let me run the tips of my fingers
over your ribs and trace the veins
that tangle themselves around your dimpled skeleton.
among the jumbled mess you call a body
i found a frayed and cut-out piece of construction paper
with your name scrawled in red pen around the edges
and in the morning i slipped it out of its placement
all for my own self-entitlement.
when you were not looking i slipped back in
and weaved between your desolate bones
like the red fox you've nicknamed me
and i put back a new glossy replica
and wrote both our names in a dripping wax.
you noticed the weight of me
while you stretched your sore limbs
and felt a pressure laying heavy on your chest.
when we came 'round to familiar roads
and dirt paths we could travel without our eyes,
you tossed your foundation to the wind
and left me in the junkyard that was once our bus stop.
you let me run the tips of my fingers
over your ribs and trace the veins
that tangle themselves around your dimpled skeleton.
among the jumbled mess you call a body
i found a frayed and cut-out piece of construction paper
with your name scrawled in red pen around the edges
and in the morning i slipped it out of its placement
all for my own self-entitlement.
when you were not looking i slipped back in
and weaved between your desolate bones
like the red fox you've nicknamed me
and i put back a new glossy replica
and wrote both our names in a dripping wax.
you noticed the weight of me
while you stretched your sore limbs
and felt a pressure laying heavy on your chest.
when we came 'round to familiar roads
and dirt paths we could travel without our eyes,
you tossed your foundation to the wind
and left me in the junkyard that was once our bus stop.
Literature
Love, London
Dear Riot,
It was your precarious posture that threw me:
You both sat and stood so dangerously.
Even as I swore to myself I'd realign those hips,
Your heart promised your hands you'd mangle me.
[we D E F A C E D the Baldwin in my mother's house,
lifting priceless keys with dirt-laced nails,
re-carving those seven ivories,
into things like thrift-store love.]
I sliced through ancient scars to resurrect my mob-mentality,
To purge my 'kingdom' of your peach-sweet tyranny.
My self-destruction leaves you pleading the fifth and toasting unaffectedness.
Don't let your facade fool you, darling.
You never mind
Literature
Vienna
their dead never crowded
my mind;
I never lurched beneath
the weight of
too many bones
that were not mine:
rather, a kind
of hesitant symmetry
began to overtake
the place,
to invade the narrow crevices
where, previously,
a doubt had been.
I've been wrong,
all this time:
they are not laying siege.
they are waiting for
the inexorable pull of entropy
to break me
just enough
Literature
Chicago
A soul would need more stagnation to be one for the save
for I didn't know my words could hold a body over a city,
and I didn't know this disgusting and lovely city drew blood from strong veins
unstable city emerging from the underworld pink and primitive
in short gasps of promise and disappointment, I can promise you
that this was the saddest I've ever been:
your friends and me throwing magnolia petals into Lake Michigan not knowing
being afflicted with acute missing in New York still not knowing
having the most permeable love confluence not knowing
.
hanging a map with your city in the middle and stabbing it until the marker runs
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Don't you tell me "no".
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Comments28
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This is beautiful but a bit uneven in places. I really like the way you mention Boston in the first stanza, and the construction paper imagery is also quite inspired. If you're looking to edit, the bit about the red fox seems a little too autobiographical for such a strong piece.