March 28, 2012

poem 105 of a poem a day for 2012


the pain of what lights pleasure

I cinch the clack
pierce of time’s wheel
to a tighter spill
racking my flesh
farther away
from myself
my bones
can already separate
from what my soul
needs of them
to leave footprints
in the wet clay
of a woman’s heart

it is always best
that every scent
humanity blesses
the Earth with
closes our chests
of open wounds

like the bullet
speed of Love
sometimes
when a heart
like mine
pours shot after shot
in the needy jangle
of empty cups

I turn keys and
tumble through
corner begs
to dance with
skeletons in the rain
picking over my remains

indecisions
carcass
the landscape
litter
the incisions
of ghosts
devouring
  everything  
that can’t
be ignored

immobilized
I can’t move
without eating
my heart
out of stone
every time
squeezing the air
from me to
a completely still
enough to write
what I smell

Pandora and
Persephone
smudge-pot the way
and hold the words
open like doors
and seeded wings
in the wax bleed
of another poem
hope brings home

EJR ©


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