I
sighted eagles, at morbid laughter, at sheer admiration: to need by dreams,
this kitchen of seasonings, this grandmother mixture: our days at limbo, our
nights at purgatory, our evenings at porridge: this playful woman, this cinema
attraction, this gymnast: our hearts at glee, as such to strike melancholia,
where a gentle caress becomes tears: that sudden sneeze, with much speculation,
while glazing over bruises: those glamour souls, this inner masculinity, as
built a dungeon hard for seeing. I
measure gentility: I dine with butterflies; I examine intricate colors: while
steep at genetics, this well of mentalities, this goulash enterprise: our
renowned daughters, our unspoken mothers, or this heart skipping with shame:
our watery glasses, our jasper blades, or better, our sky built images: that
perfect person, to invest our lives, while sudden upon an imperfection: this
talkative wife, while streaming our dungeons, to snap a bar: as creative
creatures, or K through 12, this inevitable death sentence.
I
sense power, this midnight rendezvous, as plunging depth while interrupted: this
creature of invention, those Dove Bars, this rinse exchanging faces: to wash
her body, our soapy philosophies, at clutches realizing vulnerability: our
faith in this person, to ask for exclusivity, to trust where days are damaged:
this viable person, this living acquisition, or moons to arcs this rapture: our
sunlike pumpkins, this chip with dip, or this three hour documentary: our
mothers warning, our fathers absent, our daughters searching for leadership: as
spoken vessels, a bit tacit, or more unspoken than snails: at cliffs peaking,
this subtle mania, our rests becoming crucial: our twelve hour marathons, our
clever responses, or better, this inner feeding becoming unbearable.
…our
interdependence, our intra-psyches, our bandages unraveled: this putrid wound,
that sweet fragrance, this map to dementias: as casual souls, at casual
discourse, to realize this shift to our right: those magnet allurements, this
magnet face, those magnet high cheekbones: while eating cabbage, or boiling
oatmeal, or this batter for Red Snapper: our rice with vodka, our Tabasco with
noodles, or this steak upon our Wednesday nights: that first slice, this battle
with Houstons, this fair skinned sinner: as pushing dimensions, or lavishing
upon cartoons, to sip, glance, and chuckle: our summer games, this mental
tetras, this chess piece becoming interesting—where mother slept, or granny
slept, while aunty tossed and turned nightly: this black sun, this purple
gloom, this jasmine surprise: as righteous sinners, while laughing at Jesus, to
probe this forgiveness ideal: this maniac concern, this normal concern, our
brains for sailing….
…our
greetings, Love: this song of song-glides, this glider around our souls: as
sore with venom, or sore with thoughts, while tugged for ignoring our thoughts:
this Taurus plague, this Pisces adventure, or years to perfecting indifference:
whereby, this facial wash, this bodily wash, to realize our aches are unwashed:
but hell to lies, or cries for vengeance, where righteous becomes clever
disposition: this grassy snake, this livid scorpion, or this human millipede:
our jararaca insights, our army ants, or this taste in nature speaking to
orderly chaos: as men seething, or mothers confused, while stepfathers lose
influence: our great-parents mourning, our Buddhists natures cringing, or more,
this Christian principle trampled underfoot: our wise grannies, or our clever
grandpas, while unable to form a cogent sentence: this rising frustration, this
public secret, or better, our want to disguise something horrible: as crafty
creatures, while feeling guilty, as, nonetheless, our secrets must remain:
(this dark reality, our shivering spirits, our inner requiem)….
