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.
we lay in animal calm,
rocked by the chalk-soft valley.
bodies and boulders;
skin and stone.
a sharp laugh cracked across the cliffs;
(peals sang back from the chasm’s
the sunset blushed,
and broke our idleness.
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.
the coffee-shop, dead on midday,–
in the agenda
of commerce and trade.
bright shocks of toothsome sun
turn, in time,
to downy clocks, by breaths of air unspun
we are only at our best in retrospect