for my friends
We are women of impossible dimensions
We shadow the crag rock and follow Coal Creek curves
Despite our depth we approach you casual as side-slung leather
We call hearts to soften and we chisel flint tips
we taste like turmeric because golden ancient stories stir our bones
We are the careful turn of phrases
and the soft smooth underarm
But be warned some cut forelocks of red hair on new moon and
others chant to ward you off when curled up in determined sleep
thumb to forefinger, we can mostly dance alone
We are sharp eyes and hips
the cleavage of a culture
and despite distance, death and danger we are bonded
You may think this curve of cheek
or the steady slap of tongue,
a supple slip, is invitation
to take- you can try but you must know-
there is boldness behind our breast.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Friday, November 21, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
the stars were right about you
I used to drive down the interstate and play myself the maiden reckless
I knew where I was headed and I knew it was dead wrong- and that made me smile
you, dark star, you are the big hot stones I stand upon
you came from the fire and you blister my feet
but oh your heat
I found your secret on a Saturday
it felt like the first snow
how the earth tilts her chin to her chest
a white and ribbed spine that is so flawless it makes you want to bite
and yes suddenly your scent and silence makes sense so early in the night
Now your heavy eyelids are more of a tale
and already i'm watching myself decide how your memory will rest behind my temples
how a storm did torment behind your eyes
and your palms did turn so sharply about the wrists
and someday the story will be told of how once it was me
who was made foolish, one winter, on a saturday and from a summer
and how it took me a whole week to tell you what I knew
I see you from above, and where I am not left behind there is spaces of that same storm blue.
I knew where I was headed and I knew it was dead wrong- and that made me smile
you, dark star, you are the big hot stones I stand upon
you came from the fire and you blister my feet
but oh your heat
I found your secret on a Saturday
it felt like the first snow
how the earth tilts her chin to her chest
a white and ribbed spine that is so flawless it makes you want to bite
and yes suddenly your scent and silence makes sense so early in the night
Now your heavy eyelids are more of a tale
and already i'm watching myself decide how your memory will rest behind my temples
how a storm did torment behind your eyes
and your palms did turn so sharply about the wrists
and someday the story will be told of how once it was me
who was made foolish, one winter, on a saturday and from a summer
and how it took me a whole week to tell you what I knew
I see you from above, and where I am not left behind there is spaces of that same storm blue.
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