Curing/Coddling
I tell you, I’ve had a poem brewing in my head
And you say, oh really
And maybe I detect your disinterest, but maybe I don’t
Either way, I don’t care if you don’t care
I continue
The words have been churning away, I say
And you nod, yeah that’s cool
Too preoccupied by the TV and waves of conversation
Tides coming in, fluctuating volumes of voices
Yes, sure, you reassure
I’m listening, go ahead, keep talking
But I guess it doesn’t really matter
About that pin I found buried under papers
Whether it truly is an artifact of Hispanic culture
Or just another manufactured stand-in
Courtesy of the America we know and love
I confess, I epitomize myself
Plucking up Corn Pops from a thrift store cup
Sipping at Tylenol like it’s a candy-covered elixir
Only to shadow grasp
Stare down my red-eyed Savior
I tell you, My words feel too stiff
No matter how much the tendrils of spring
Twine ‘round my ankles, drowning this February
Or how many slips of birth control pills I swallow
Or how often I watch my blue-tailed betta swim
Or how long a bucket of carnations sits in the corner by the sink
Too many sensations, I say
Sometimes add up to not much at all
And you gift a glance
And you masquerade around my self-proclaimed doctrine
You are so deep, you promise like a mother
I re-cross my legs
The matter is done and I want coffee
You agree, but wait a moment
Maybe your wallet is thinning
Maybe it’s empty
Devilish Daydream
I fool myself into thinking I’m flattering
the hipster boy in the second row
by shamelessly ogling his knit hat
and imagining my fingers tracing his tattoos.
Blinking, counting down sleep, my lips
at his cheekbones, neck, collarbone.
Black tea paints my throat,
preparing.
Polite-faced
I stroll through day-space, a blot of
color, an awkward stumble down the stairs,
plucking music measures
and privately planting them
in other people’s heads.
Rub my eyes, shut
the door, lay out your
thoughts in the
fiercest whisper.
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