Category Archives: Poetry

Ceremony

The frog men sat criss-cross-apple-sauce around a campfire,

roasting oozing green smores on naked cattails.

Frog chief blew a bubble in his throat to call his wives,

and one by one they appeared,

eyes like floating tennis balls on black water,

waiting.

Then the chief began to swell

until he rolled and wobbled on the putty shore.

The frog wives surrounded his vast bouncing body

and clenched their thighs before he took his final breath–

Like vultures they descended,

landing ravenous upon the chief,

vicious gums thrashing at his skin

tearing the webs that bound his feet–

and ate him whole.

The frog men could only stare

at the wives licking life’s syrup from smacking lips,

hopping back to the pond, turning to ripples as they dove…

Calm came for only a moment,

then the water filled with tadpoles,

blossoming like blood.

***

This post is only a draft. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions below! Your input is appreciated!

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Antithesis

I never imagined the words

I love you

could turn to daggers

pierce the flesh

wound the diaphragm,

force tears to pool in the corners of your black eyes…

I never imagined the words

I love you

could turn to anger

sting the ego

poison the present,

divide two lives like “God” divides “His children”…

I never imagined the words

I love you

could turn to ice

freeze the summer

paralyze the heart,

bite like frost and make the space between us frigid…

No, I never imagined the word

goodbye

to bleed to ache to crumble,

to flee…

Mon ami,

I never imagined the words

I love you–

I felt them,

and then I prayed for them

to die.

***

This post is only a draft. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions below! Your input is appreciated!

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Until I don’t have to imagine anymore

I imagined we spoke before the sun had risen as I stood

naked wet

in the shower lathered and loose,

I murmured French to your naked wet ears practicing for future encounters

and when you replied your accent sounded like

La Vie en Rose

in the bass clef.

The music continued over breakfast:

oatmeal brown sugar sliced banana rosemary and a cup of coffee,

alone

I felt it seeping into the crevices of my gums

filling a lake beneath my tongue

for us to dive into.

I imagined you me diving splashing in flannel sheets

my sighs dancing in your hair

a breeze through wind chimes

my fingers printing on your shoulders

a stamp on red wax seal,

Naked wet

I arched my spine into your chest

a yogi raising heart to heaven.

I imagined you me paralyzed naked wet with love

lying on our backs atop the sheets,

your hand sauntering from my bellybutton to my breasts

back and forth to calm our pulses into heart beats.

I whisper something

La Vie en Rose

You respond in English

to thrust me back––

***

This post is only a draft. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions below! Your input is appreciated!

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So what I didn’t wear a bra today

Oh I’m sorry

do I make you uncomfortable?

Do my breasts

hanging swaying in my shirt

offend (intrigue) your eyes?

Hate to break it to you but–

my tits are not

plump pink grapefruits

fleshy balls to juggle

between your hands

they are

fat skin muscle

body, my

body.

What’s that?

I didn’t shave today?

You don’t like my

prickly pear pits

my caterpillar calves and thighs?

Well they aren’t perfect either.

My skin is not

leather velvet silk cotton

it is skin

dammit

it grows hair

it has pores

filled with sweat

oil dirt blood pus

not

porcelain.

So don’t bother

selling me your airbrushed facades

I know they are

not

real

and your powders treatments liquid lies

only serve to suffocate

cover me up

mask my frigid pointed nipples

shape them into spheres.

I want to

move slip slide through my clothes

and into my body

not

your idea of my body–

mine

not yours to mold

like a blown-glass chalice

for you to pour your piss into.

Stop.

Stop measuring my dimensions

forcing me onto a scale

squeezing me into shapes

prescribing me a pear apple hourglass

I am not a fucking fruit.

I am not an object.

I am a human

being

and I will

not

tolerate

your dick money hate

telling me how to be–

I won’t.

***

This post is only a draft. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions below! Your input is appreciated!

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