Aquatic Elegy

you're my favorite imaginary friend.

the only one to escape

the child sewn to ceiling

porcelain limbed hollow

flight from your voice to my memories

so I told you (the one with the right words):

if I stretch your skin to a parachute

all the pieces will still shatter

when you exit orbit

and watching makes me burn

the sheets canopy draped

to escape the sun



but during the day,

when I leave,

I wish I could carry fire in my hands

and bring it to my mouth like candy when

I'm hungry

because it's always freezing and...

nothing you say makes it better.

I'm still going home, fingers and knees on splinters, and waiting for someone new to copy the keys.

because you're still gone, and I'm too small for the imprint of the body in my bed.

tracing the margins to fill with more stories of why

we can't meet for drinks sometime between twilight and dawn,

and why

I'm (sorry) a liar



Twilight:

you're taking pictures

(other girls)

while I'm hiding beneath

a bed.

the flash cast shadow

covers my hands

and for a second

the circuit completes

I can almost follow the impulse to where you're standing

where she's looking

and over-expose the frame

(your bones hold a network of tunnels,

and I'm creeping in and out 'til lost
in skeletal structure and nervous lines)

dawn:

you have the child,

I keep the girls,

and the shift

axis-shudder keeps us asleep

You are buried
beloved/alive

while I say stupid things

"Why am I so obsessed with--"

when I broke my rib

and I couldn't stand to hug you

be hugged

and every thought linked back to

exposing bones.

I want to be stripped

rather than drained

because there's nothing uglier than mummification.

Agreed?

Agree.

(Remove the essential "me" and--)

"I can't be comfortable in your bed anymore"

and ?

The sentence never seems complete

yesterday i fainted while walking home from the bus

the thread from my wrist into space

to you

siphoning circulation into a single red point

until i fell

tunnel-vision face

first into cement before children and cars

and you weren't there

and the other threads snapped

and i can't remember where to find the ends

does it make you sad?

when you can't catch the eight year old girl

you think you should have known

(small)

red thread stitches

a patch in the lining of every letter

we don't

have to have everything in common

though the title says twins

genetic

or imagined

and i promised

In Progress...

Baby teeth scrape against the lining of the womb, and its all gone to hell 'cause you're bleeding out her hair and it should dry to brown

But she's a wide-angle lens, shot from beneath 'til you're pulling out ribs to bone the blouse.

I think there used to be a doll in the corner of my bed, but I forgot her 'til she disappeared. Sometimes I look under the sheets, but there's no evidence of existence, and I wish my eyes would move

And I know if I believed in ghosts I'd have to ask you to haunt me

To Adore 2

she separates ribs, and disjointed
they make no sense
counting capillaries
to devour nerves they turn to yarn

Bones hold wormholes to
make a ring of splinters
in the center

To Adore 1

The throat is a viral birth canal
pregnant
internal noose of filoviridae
mother uncommon
cold
your lips on spleen
release galaxy hemorrhage
to constellate bones

held head under skin
shifting weight sheets
of adolescent mattress, foreign floor
dreaming
stalk you shoot up odes to love
me
to diary ashes

Physical Phoenix

pluck needle from bare
feet that ran to the desert
seeking summer twilight

porcelain doll in oleander crown
plays (is) passive
while venom lizards sun
bead bodies on stone

she wants to make necklaces of scales
pretty to befriend garnet bellied spider

but there are
sweat dreams of loving one without
bruises, lollipop promises(worship)--
the gravel kisses to clavicle
when eight year pill bug rolls
out and in sun dress armor

broiling playground buried
prickly pear bloom in
mud hair tangles on stabbed leather seat

i left cereal bowls for baby
squirrels growing in storage

child hands held the wheel
for ghost accelerator

Symmetry

fractures
grotesque silhouette
balance
she, draped in light ochre-cloud, names you a pest
drops dead milk, rot, on the floor in preparation for
decay-hungry children
anise alcohol eyes: cannibal craving distill in cavities

we should play the dependence game, but
only if logic will cut the thread
you can drown the virgin in the bath
and we'll give her back to earth

Daydream haze
silent film Sunday morning
cream stilettos baking
cherry scones
he always
burned with the trash

then I watched closed eyes, weak
heart pushing through neck
and dove beneath his ribcage
around amaryllis remains

late night

I'm hiding in stars

Black velvet obsession
artificial waterfall
unzip and slip
scalds, tastes like too much salt--
bile memories

forgotten before clean
baby doll vanity

I need a friend
or maybe a lover
one to worry then
close the door

Pray for future amnesia
the past is headlights;
too cold to cover

You're buried in snow
and I'll not attempt a rescue.

Whole Grain Seagulls

Squawking stomach--
the outline of ribs is
beautiful, pushing against
the surface.

They flap about,
fruitlessly,
beating wings against the walls.
Pecking holes in lining.

But we're too stubborn
to succumb.

hasn't earned a title.

Silver rope roses
draped
down
back
burn against fire surface.
Needle lips burrow beneath bones--
push and explore
write in ruby photos.
Seek validation-- shutter sigh
forgetting sleep-uttered words.

Actresses and models.

She is
anemone stare in lens
anticipation--
contrapposto
melting to meet demands.
Ink scars canvas
requesting analysis--
exploration. Fingertips along the seams
electrify capillaries.
Explode.
He whispers--
burgundy taffeta becomes a blanket.

in print baby skin
born

Recipe

Nectar hair
nibble upon cheek
she is "ai"
senza.
Anemic.
Droplet hem
Mattress is a creek
Bodies, columns,
aligning aisles.
She lingers, the grocery
a synesthesia
maelstrom
purple
He is phlebotomist--
insert the needle,
hunting hemoglobin.
Or cytoplasm lotion texture.

We are the products of fifteen lies.
Opaquest.

(Note: A class assignment to write a "list poem" using twenty assigned words. Of course, I took some liberties... )

Delicious

Red lip stop sign
Do not touch
Do not speak
Gravity drag eyes -- do not see
words
Salt skin, bleeding kisses
burn the edges of my tongue
No one wants to be the subject of another shitty stanza
melodrama
Sincerely,
A Sentimental Child.

But I love the taste of letters dripping from our fingers
The way they stick--
sap
between us.
Each sound evidence of an event
distance cannot steal.
I do not have to speak for you to navigate my mind.
A virus,
move from me to you,
Ending when we understand.

Goodbye Ariadne

The name is Ariadne is still on your lips, but I'm waiting for you to see me. It was summer, and therefore wholly ill-suited to beautiful writing about poetic farewells. Sweaty hands stuck together while they could bear it, but it quickly became far too easy to slip away. The scents of gasoline and grass entwined in a noxious perfume, and I couldn't help but form comparisons. You'll grow anywhere, nourished by anything. I explode. Pour me over you and light a match. We are beautiful.

Before long my home became an island, and I dreamed of you in distant lands. Hovering somewhere between Hades and Helios real memories began to fade. Bitterness dissolved. The knowledge of monsters waiting to be fought still lingered somewhere beneath the surface, but I forgot to include myself. Ariadne: foolish child waving the golden thread just beyond your reach. The misinterpreted promise of salvation still waited for your return.

Winter is a time for goodbyes. Ever the contrary anti-hero, you choose now for rebirth. In your mind the trophy waited, just where you left her. Now that adventures can once more be forced to the background, it is time to reclaim your prize. But the island is a wasteland. Sun-bleached bones of fish, and other unidentified creatures litter the ground that must have once borne feet. Ariadne is gone. Search the land, the sea, the stars-- you'll never find a trace. Lost within the labyrinth she wanders, with a ball of golden thread wound tight around her hands. Come find me, the beast, waiting in her shadow. Complete the quest.