The theme of Friday poetry blogging this week comes from the recent controversy stirred up by Twisty. Here's my contribution to the discussion.
I like the way it tangles and glistens
in my hair. Dream fluid. Milky words. Unspoken
secrets from your cloudy interior self. Words you never
tell me. Droplets of salt marsh at dusk. Your meteor
showers. Your hidden pools.
I want what is inside you. What percolates beneath the layers.
(I need your drowning)
Streams of hazy dream words. Silken
condensation of your voice. The beating
of the wings of crow. The burst pods of milkweed.
The broken doorways. Warm white tears.
(I look into this doorway of you
and I say, something is broken.)
Snow trickling from pines. Melt drops
splashing. I hold them gently in my mouth.
(You drown in me)
Spit them into my hands. Glistening self
words. Rubbed into my palms. Memories melted
and viscous. I feel your fingers touch
the person you need me to be.
(the woman I am not)
I cannot swallow
the wet, shining, jagged, silent syllables
cannot take in
all that darkness
all that starry light