• icarus

    Let me recount
    The different ways I have hung,
    Let them play out again
    And again
    Let me pass through this life, this cave
    Undisturbed as the cave itself,
    And dip, like the sun,
    Into a body

    The sweat on my back as I lie
    Awake, paranoid
    I want to know
    What could keep a life afloat
    For I would sooner drown, throw my neck into the blue,
    Than stop asking things of you

    And is it truly wrong to want?
    To want one untouched day,
    To want to burn like a star into the night
    To become one harmonious piece of the day
    But judgment waits,
    Roadside, palms burning
    As light meets water, and water meets wax

  • body of mine

    And another me
    Rises to the riverbed.

    In this next chapter,
    I will remind you of the water,
    Of my many ghosts beneath it,
    My hands running over your light,
    Your face changing under my shadows

    If you had stopped me last year,
    Our lives might still rock, like boats,
    Side by side in a wash of moonlight
    In stride, you carry: worn pieces of paper,
    A bird’s nest, a ruined Christmas
    That sunken space below your shoulders,
    The place where wings should be.

  • imitations

    I’ve always loved the hidden marks
    In old cutlery and in
    The silent, stoic bones of your face,
    Waiting to be touched
    Or to be hit:

    Both just different paths to the same place
    Of yearning
    For more flesh on flesh,
    An understanding that words, at last,
    Have lost their passions.

    You follow the sun with your eyes
    Cast it down to the lake,
    A golden burn on your lips
    An element of drowning, to be preserved
    In the nature of these things.