I tried to find the oldest unpublished poem on this computer that was worth sharing.
This one is 10 years old, when I was traveling in and out of a very long "broken-heart-dark-night-of-the soul" phase in my life. Yeah, we all have at least one of those. I'll spare you from any of the overly-maudlin or overly-philosophical ones.
I've always kinda liked this one, though, not sure why I never published it.
beautiful sonnet
I have never held breath like your intake silence
how can I not love you in your way that
Gemini arm’s-length seduction
eaten with one cannibal cry
how like you to slide between the remains
renaming parts of me turned to dust
1:37 AM won’t stand in front of you
won’t beckon the curtains
draw runes from a black bag
everything about the air rings warning
this is my life this is my life this is my life - but
mantra is weak logic with you fresh on my skin
your passing fancy held onto for lack of better touch
leaves no tomorrow to teach you interpretations of such
Feels good to be back on the train, even if it has been regurgitated material these past two weeks.
3 comments:
Hey, Danika. That's really lovely -- another one that would work when read out loud.
Glad you're back on the train, too.
Hi Susan,
I'm still recovering from the Women In Film Festival, but yes, mostly back.
d
"with you fresh on my skin"
love that!
the couplet is quite fine as well--but ouch! it smarts!
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