“little bird hymns”
trails of carcinogens drift through the halls
around
the lamplight. tonight, i cannot answer you.
your frail skeleton represents everything
i am not. it twists and folds to the sound of
heavy breathing.
wet lips and a devil’s smirk in the mirror,
you held your necklace and prayed
for courage.
comforters and sheets wrapped
themselves around
your legs. one photo a day,
i promised you that.
“ruptures, fractures”
he followed the wandering star into
a stable configuration of
constellations. orbiting rock and
gas kept the secrets he uttered
safe and
warm amidst the hollow
skulls of celestial bodies.
each of his atoms
formed into a doorway into
primordial knowledge.
specks of light dripped from
his fingertips and collected into
tiny droplets for the
desiccated mouths below.
“above all men, swans”
in october we rode in
unwashed sailboats along a
grey coastline mapping our future homes.
you spoke of how much you
despised old friends
and how our breath was drawn
together in the same manner as all
other dangerous things. i cleared the
dust from my sunday suit and waited
for your
waves to crash all over me.
“passing glimpse”
forgive me, but through the
curtains i saw your innocence.
it’s freezing outside and i’m tired of
watching shadows of old lovers
from park benches.
you exist as an angel in
transit.haplessly swallowed by the
open mouths of light from starscapes above.
it’s freezing on the inside. there was never
a moment we shared, but your silhouette
tells stories.
