because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

_____

il mio cuore selvaggio/ my savage heart

breathes uncertainly,
each seething beat
an inscrutable master
dancing over the graves
of my ill-sung epics and
leading me on hands
and rug-burned knees
through sunken grassblades and
gravelled shag, leaving me
curled up and fetal in the center
of a white-sheeted bed
too large
for a single person,
too small to hold me
safe
from the nightmares of escape
that press into my back again
and again, fingertip-pulses
of flashing neon slipped
between shoulder blade and sinew,
laced tight into the wet hollows
of my soul,
promising.

4 responses

  1. Bindo

    Alright! If you’re not published, you should be…

    Bindo

    January 16, 2009 at 11:56 am

  2. thecolorofsad

    this was like meditation, i breathed this poem in and out, in and out. i like grassblades and shoulderblades. bare, against each other. heh.

    January 16, 2009 at 4:04 pm

  3. too small to hold me
    safe
    from the nightmares of escape

    oozing vulnerability. Great poem.

    January 16, 2009 at 4:50 pm

  4. newcolour

    My new favorite

    glad you like it 😉

    January 22, 2009 at 8:55 pm

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