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Literature Text
.
in the hard year
the house was a bruise-
blood clotting and pregnant
beneath the wood.
the rooms held darkness longer
than light
and smelled of life in reverse-
our young bodies bent, but tight as clothes-pins.
the flowers in the yard were firecrackers
and more than once I slept
in a weed jungle, fingers stripped cables,
wrapped in chicken wire boxing gloves.
in the hard year,
you hit like your father
and I climbed stairs
without making a sound.
in the hard year
the house was a bruise-
blood clotting and pregnant
beneath the wood.
the rooms held darkness longer
than light
and smelled of life in reverse-
our young bodies bent, but tight as clothes-pins.
the flowers in the yard were firecrackers
and more than once I slept
in a weed jungle, fingers stripped cables,
wrapped in chicken wire boxing gloves.
in the hard year,
you hit like your father
and I climbed stairs
without making a sound.
Literature
I took off
My day off.
I stand in sunlight
without asking.
I can watch it being day.
The mud is soft and cool at home.
I'd bury well without a casket,
I’ll be a naked pill for earth.
I build a garden box from wood,
smash my thumb.
Red bell
peppers;
too late for lettuce.
I had a premonition
I would live like this.
No one will remember me.
I’ll forget by Tuesday.
Literature
cold
When it gets cold out
she gets tired;
I can't say I blame her.
It's so much easier
to take comfort
in the dark,
beneath warm bodies
and whispered promises.
It's so much easier
to lie still
and cover your head.
The cold brings out
the matchstick men;
all ready to alight,
to warm your heart.
To take it.
To burn it.
Eventually,
the world moves on.
Eventually,
it gets easier to go outside.
Let's try not to set ourselves on
fire, in the meantime.
Literature
parentheses
i was going to ask you to hold back my hair
if i started to heave
but it's cut in mourning
for the fawns dying under the chalky
moist hands of children,
in mourning for newspaper print
threatening suicide off the tips of your eyelashes,
saying things like
i could fall faster
i could convert more
i could shine my face brighter than your sands
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Comments12
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Stings the heart and settles the song
remembering roads once walked along.
That is to say, It reminds me of something at once familiar and alien, like and echo of half forgotten memory.
remembering roads once walked along.
That is to say, It reminds me of something at once familiar and alien, like and echo of half forgotten memory.