(old shells discovered)
I enrolled myself in a poetry writing class this semester to help dust/de-rust/lust poetry writing again. So far I haven't fallen in love with anything I've written, but I'll post a few anyway as my class likes what I'm doing. This stuff is definitely still in the workshop phase, so comments/criticism is welcome.
Equi-knots
Upon door crawling across floor, I search for your scent and as my face curls into disappointment the cat paws at what's left of his toasted kibble crumbles and mixes his mumbles into mine.
In the remaining pastel sheets of afternoon light, I travel my chin for the rubbing burns you left behind. Those heated prickles and pokes have cooled into bruise, pink sensitivity tumbled over, arousing my fingertips. A moat for my lips.
I water my pillow tonight, in hopes the wet cotton dirt will sprout the images of you I'd like to save for so many laters.
At sunrise, the steady sound of cicadas seeps into the spit of my mouth. I can taste summer but I can't taste you anymore.
2 comments:
I like everything but "mixes his mumbles" with "crumbles" so close. Nice though, otherwise.
I agree...in fact, I actually deleted it right before publishing, then changed my mind at the last second to see if it would pop up in someone's critique. Thank you! Love me some GRATING SPACE--looking forward to your future posts!
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