for the singer with the cyanide eyes

 

Maybe this
winter
will be easier;

maybe there is hope beyond frost;
maybe our breath will jut
in steamy tomorrows

across a river that never
freezes; maybe your dreams will dream yet
tachycardic, wild and blue,

like the pulse of the ocean,
muffling the deaths that lie spread-
eagled across decades,

hissing obscenities
under the bedspread, the deaths
that smell ever-so-softly

of overripe promises,
understated like
magnolia blossoms

at the end of summer…
like secrets for a December
no man has seen.

21 thoughts on “for the singer with the cyanide eyes

  1. like the pulse of the ocean,
    muffling the deaths that lie spread-
    eagled across decades,

    …wow that stanza just grabbed me joanna…and the overripe promises understated…really felt your words as i read them….

  2. I loved this part:

    “the deaths
    that smell ever-so-softly

    of overripe promises,
    understated like
    magnolia blossoms

    at the end of summerโ€ฆ”

    you’re in complete control of your skills, my friend!

  3. “maybe your dreams will dream yet
    tachycardic, wild and blue,”

    I have never seen a frozen river before (tropical country, you know) but I think I’ve gotten a feel for it with this piece. ๐Ÿ™‚

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