a reliquary of long-forgotten things:
rag-dolls, ravished (embraced thread-bare),
and other antidotes to childhood fear;
daguerreotypes; unburnished promise rings;
baby-grows, outgrown before first wear;
coin-collections, three from being complete
propped by pill-boxes, garish and discrete;
a butterfly-clip which once pinned thinning hair,–
each shelf, a shore for many a life’s debris.
these trinkets outlive our dearest memories.
i tremble, a still-life carved from ice;
you shimmer and dissolve with morning light.
these tepid fingertips, like matchsticks, struck;
we melt at the mere suggestion of a touch.
a nexus of nerve-endings,–
a never-ending, + ceasing-too-soon
display of our skin’s ec/static circuitry ::
your limbs, illumined, plug into mine.
[i’ve never known these nodes to glow so bright.]
im/pulses flash in energ/etic hues
as my wires entangle [+ enter] you.
“we’re inversions of one another.” | another one of those revisions where
difference is reduced to metaphor
i fell to your feet in a clashing avalanche.
my body, a boulder, blasted into shards.
the sound of dynamite delighted you.
when i crashed into your quarry,
i made sure my ruins boomed.
I clocked in
and the cogs began to turn.
A slippery fish, I was slid
along a grey conveyer belt:
to a throng
of wet and glittering forms.
skinned me of my chlorine uniform;
inspected by hungry, eel-like tongues.
until each shift is done.
daylight is a foreign currency.
exiled to an isle of cotton-silk,
you spend it under unfamiliar sheets.
blankets billow round you like a womb
(rock you to a soft, synthetic swoon).
tidal, you rise,–
reborn beneath the moon.
we are only at our best in retrospect
in the beginning
was the word.
a mute note:
it ascended the throat
(that choked-up aisle)
to the mouth, baptised
in a pulpit of spit and enamel.
syllables strained at the pews of the teeth,–
congregating in phrases and aching to speak.
the tongue is an altar.
it alters my sermon-song.
my words dissolve
before i have begun