February 5, 2012

poem 36 of a poem a day for 2012

feast on me

up asleep
in my clothes
mythology books
alongside me
smooth-roll black ink pen
and spiral notebook nearby

I dreamt of you
of the feel of your teeth
against my skin
how so sharp
your entrances are
that I feel nothing
except the bleed
of you leaving
each time
I awake
or stir
to pull
down stars
from the frozen
black sky just outside
my window
pressing their
stolen clocks into
the dead pieces
of me,waiting
to go home

the words come
as the wind does
when tending
to the carve of flesh
not quite noticing
at first
that they are there
in soft shoes waiting
while I count
syllables and listen
to each breath
I take and tumble
into the stretch
limber thin
pulsing slow to
simmer and wait
in the pre-Dawn morning

so I start to sing
that I want all of you
to feed on me
feeding too
and that this is why
these words
are as if little mantras
of an arched
and ready to begin
and this is why
as I slow
to a smile
that I know
this is another of
my poems again  

EJR (c)

No comments:

Post a Comment