Based in the bayou. Launched from the levee. Leftovers are we. 


Of Choice

Of Choice

The halo thick, stretch bruised and yellow;

it crowns my mourning thin bedfellow,

Her with eyes spilt splinters on the sweat-steamed bathroom floor

The shards of iris, cast honey, cloudless

Swim straight through stripping marine roar.

Before this shelter, black hole bombing

She clocked thin hours, suspense and haunting

The alien blue space draft  in which she dwelled before

As one snuffs pain, the yawning of her veins,

To bubbling, bursting volcanic sores.

To bend, to break, the crested shadows on her face

Each swell of skin clipped in wrinkled lace

All bent fingers slammed straight  in the swinging door

That opens for others, her sober sisters and brothers,

Puzzle click patience to keep from wanting more.

For her I leak from needle valves within

A melting shroud on stain-seared skin

I murmur mouth full that grating lullaby’s score

For her I’’ve mastered, paced disasters

I’m not like her, I’m not, I’m sure.

Though at the falling, of dusk and shutter

The hunger for thickness, spread over the clutter

Snap the limbs and stroke the core

I’d rather fear, the view from here

Than know by slow heart the pickets of the white framed door.

Two Ways Up

a few words for her

a few words for her