what
a million atoms
a million dreams
a million things she doesn't need
she tells me this on the porch
with her tongue twisting languidly
over and around the red cherry stem
she has the art of collapse
someway of disconnecting all the corners
in her body so she simply flows
over the chaise like an extension of her white dress
or perhaps the dress is an extension of her milky skin
and therein lies the answer
she is the ex of all tension
the loose strand that this rushing world forgot
to bind up in its weave of stress and crush
and watching her here in the southern shadows
i begin to believe her
that this limp form holds within her
all the latent force the world forgot
focused now on twisting the cherry stem
that stains her red mouth against her blanched face
it emerges a delicate knot
tied in against itself holding nothing but air
and i suggest a different prey
realizing with my reaching even that i am lost
she reaches her hand to the notches along the wall
and notes
478,908,
a million hearts will do.
1 comment:
ah.
this is amazing.
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