Joey
at the mercy of my feelings
in the palm of your hand
you’ve got me.
headlights float outside my window
like UFOs or the goat-drawn
chariots of Norse gods.
I’ll spell these figment cuddles
and kisses into stars
imploding, melting at my fingertips.
this has happened too many
times and my smile has found its crease,
but there are too few promises left
to group like marbles,
rolling in the bottom of a bucket.
Polite Love Notes
The wind whips, whistling
outside my window. Dirty laundry
strewn across the bed,
my thoughts of you
sprawling over every spare surface.
The chill of January
draws to a close and here
I am, my imagination
drawing you close, closer.
Kissing ghost lips,
wishing beyond wishes,
pronouncing every “please”
as clearly as I can
because my hopes are climbing
out of my chest
onto this page, a canvas,
whatever they can reach
ever writing and rewriting
the poem that keeps you near me.
My Heart Thrums Like the Radio
Happy is hard to hold,
fling a rope and do your best
to tie it up tidy
take the flood captive.
But you unwound the spark,
tapping a rhythm
amid the ordinary colors
a dance of pulses and pearls.
Stealing Kisses in An Art Gallery
Dropping I love yous like candy pieces
licking up scraps of affection
whenever they are spared.
Glorying in the sound of
my own name, eyes closed in
reverence, basking in
the thickest fog and prettiest paint.
Stow the memories, the needless nostalgia,
for this moment has me lighter than air.
Cold Calligraphy
Something delicate,
something I could understand
like pink petals cascading
settling soft on pale skin –
blonde hair,
glimmering eyes.
Not anything like this cold –
a girl carving sentences,
her friends to fragments,
herself to pieces.
I would hold her but for all
the edges. But for
my wounds being cut
just as fresh, just as cleanly.
— Sarah Lucille Marchant (twitter.com/flutterpulse)
