I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I
know, anytime she goes away. (That bloody feeling, as gorged by deaths,
feeling for fractured and falling—that gorgeous smile, those shivering palms,
our fingers tilling soil—that heavy breathing, our sun without curses, this
force by gravity to utter, “I love you”…that infant texture, to writhe
proprieties, as realizing it could be easier: if but for love, to exclaim
exhaustion, courting this agenda by love; to ask her soul, while thrown to
textures, at base a man deadly for deaths; as cultured a villain, leering at
grandparents, amazed our years haven’t provided justice; that darkness kiss,
those fragile tendons, that shift of turns where mercy is summonsed. I’ve died
a swan: I’ve lived a ghost; at churns this vessel mourning contempt; but more
to violets, that precious essence, as born to lights our attic flames; to love
with deaths, at wars to embrace, while peering at something too cold to
confess; while never our accordion, or ever our piano, at flux this lyre at
soothing nerves: that mirrored portrait, to wander by sadness,
but
never that change for glory: if but by glances, to shift through pressures, our
daughters praising their fathers). We’ve
longed by graves, our fist to dirt, while shivering our souls to church: our
pastor’s dance; that cemented answer; this flux as unbreakable silence: if life
to winds, this cadence of woes, our parents retreating from honesty; for deep
those fears, to maneuver a child, while pointing towards fatal infractions.
I loved reluctantly, this thing by
measures, to suggest that downward means loyalty: this hell by names, as
pregnant by advances, as never that forbidden, No!
It grieves this
way, at terrors this way, while Love floats through fancies; but ore to arts,
our expressive arcs, by vest to fly gripping magpies; that feverish dance, by
chance a glance, where such by love our musical enchant: that cryptic passion,
to love by guilt, at flavors to admit certain love: our songs to birds, as
chirping that perch, while at feeds those asthmatic heaving(s); where stomachs
growl, febrile for romance, at touch that other world.
