There is no safety in my arms;
I cant make you full and satisfied.
With eyes that climb your throat, nose and cheeks
still stopping to glance at the water glass across the room.
Before I reach your forehead
the self conscious comma inserts
itself in my breath and
I worry that you
will find me too wild or too settled;
too shy or too feverish
in my inclinations to speak, live,
or open my lungs to truth.
An apprehension paints my eyes
as if they make a tattle tale
of the doubt I daily pick up from
my flannel pillow.
Next,the exclamation point
disperses between us as if to say
"I think we missed the point"
Milliseconds after you are done with me
I whisper to the sediment in the corners of my heart...
I named it God.
No matter.
If you forget my name,
my stomach will still
vacantly burst
for those who can not speak "remember"
We have all but abandoned
semicolons and the houses of our childhood.
Yet my spirit will hover
over the polished handles
of back entrances and bathroom mirrors.
My first crush was truth
not unlike you
with all its abuse, disappointment and
confusion...
it made a broken piggy bank of my mind.
Memories rest in piles like money in vaults.
You, as pointless as a penny, make bright
noises that sound like hollow fallings
off Lego buildings... onto sidewalks and trees
Lets pretend I am that
white oak tree
out the basement window
inhaling
carbon dioxide as a fear
exhaling
oxygen as freedom
to boys that pass by
dragging the shadows too heavy
for their imagination.
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