Wednesday, May 14, 2008


One word dangles and falls from my lip
Spit up from a vile of feverish blood
Another drips slowly to add to the waste,
Shooting from left to right from my hip.

A third slams together the letters I know
And forces its way from the walls through a hole.
A sentence starts forming before I can stop it,
Linking the verbs in no certain flow.

Now, to compensate for the lack of much sense,
Or to caulk the space between ceiling and floor,
I squeeze from my tongue another straight line
That curls up around my flat confidence.

So here I stand naked while your fully dressed
And my pantyhose drop from my fingertips
You grab for your coat and you glance at your watch
You make me feel sinful for what I’ve confessed.

Yet your door is frozen by ages of rust
So instead you look down where my bare feet stand
And wonder how far I can walk without shoes.
I wonder how far you carried my trust.

One word pushed up and choked by my lip
Spit up from a vile of feverish blood
There’s none left, I feel, to add to the waste,
As I slide my pantyhose back on my hip.

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