rec room home | word callaloo

exquisite corpse october 19 2005


the sky was red as hurt
with her ultramarine nails on the shoals of my eyes
and that’s why we wear cotton before we leave the house
in a groove with round fruits shaped like women’s heads
it’s all fake graffiti for the needy who beg for something new
purple lipstick left on cigarettes
a tear floating in a glass of jack daniels
why don’t we know where our love lives?
sweet as melted butter, or salty
as greens cooked in fatback
not necessarily stoned, but beautiful
and with this moment, comes another stronger one,
a hearty bucket of air hanging in the space where you once were
i lick with my eyes trying to find you; smell nothing but blue
so i swallow water from taps to taste this lake
inhale myself i life of goodness
and flatten myself out to i am like
the burnished red, yellow leaves on the
sidewalk.  blown away by the cold breeze
raising goosebumps, hardening nipples.  i turn up the
collar on my faded coat
and i’m left alone, a drumbeat in my mouth, shadows
unhooking themselves from my ankles.

top