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 summer…”

    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. πŸ™‚

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