Tuesday, March 25, 2014

intimacy

Our origami bodies
folded to each touch.
forms slowly changing
with every fingertip of pressure
and the give and take of skin.
I found your heartbeat,
my head laying over the
deep cavern of your chest.
A rhythm that beat strong like drums
calling me home.

I slept against your ribs that night
so I could know how your body
settled with mine.

I wanted to knock against your walls
begging to be let in
to play music on your body with my mouth
symphonies of breath that passed between us.



cancer ward

You held them
delicate as drying flowers
petals pressed to your chest
curled in yours arms,
and let the radiation move through.

After, you laid them in hospital beds
tucked in sheets thin and white
as paper
and would measure
how slowly the rivers
pulsed.


You walked home at night
under the glowing streetlight
counting the blocks,
one for each child.




Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Aluminum Money

The man in town walks everywhere
pushing a cart of empty cans,
Tired eyes set in a blank stare

His lungs hurt with the winter air
and frost stings his face and bare hands.
The man in town walks everywhere.

He was found one day lying there
in a ditch unable to stand.
Tired eyes set in a blank stare.

His heart pushed more than it could bear.
The body didn't understand
the man in town walks everywhere.

He was alone, given no prayer
as doctors examined the scans,
Tired eyes set in a blank stare.

I wonder how he paid the bills
and who took the cart of five-cent cans
the man in town walks everywhere
Tired eyes set in a blank stare.