Thursday, November 13, 2008


(an old college poem)

i want to lay in front

of your mack truck tongue
like a child who runs
into traffic laughing.

and when we crash

i want to lay naked
in the crook of your arm
as exposed and swollen
as a bruise.

and when i mend

i want to wear high heels
and strut in the front door damp
with cursive words dripping
down my cheeks.

and when you slip
i want to crouch down low,
cup your head in my hands,
and feed you phrases
of my confession.

and when you choke

i will be your nurse and
stroke your gold throat
coaxing down the nouns
and verbs.

No comments: