Monthly Archives: August 2014

Steak

Standard

that’s not
how I’d like to remember you
your laugh.

that’s not
how I see bloomability
or the sound of your hard nails
flexing and stretching
or the sound
of your voice

how personally
I took everything
back then
the way back when
how casually
you talked of love
like a steak
prone to being prodded
only it wasn’t steak
it was your own
useless heart.

I believe
you two shared a spark
talking Sparta in the park
Victor Hugo in the dark
and the rest of the words
pregnant with useless thoughts.

the way
you walked, so
elegantly kept
you said
the friends only
lasted six months,
two weeks
the friends only shuffled
up to you
here, there
gone again
muddled cloudy
a somewhat clear
encounter.

why should I feel
so sad
when I remembered
the inconsistancy
of my friend
and her lover
so alike
who walked
too sure of themselves
soon to destroy
one another.

how casually
you talked of things
you taught me new words
but ones I never used

and he said
oh he dreamt
and that girl
prodding her own useless heart–

he said he never loved me
and I thought
perhaps I might
never see the same spark of light
inside him
as he had come too close
to her mind
for anyone else to see.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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On a Hymn Before Sleeping

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The sheets can get crumpled:

beware.

Hoards,

nature abhors a vacuum, right?

the whole space

is crammed

with a crushing bone on bone

marrow might

trip the silence maybe

only body

remedy, we cure by sleeping

in.

A body

is always filled,

so

why not fill

it

with the

sweet of

meticulous ebbing

tides?

wind, through the window

any distraction should be

foreseen

and hasting-ly prevented

still,

she must resume

life even after

tasting with the

sweet of

meticulous ebbing

tides

grown to fill her space

screaming when no one sees.

She is grown

the might and weight to hold the ready seed

and

only for so

long, we know beware:

the sheets crumple,

the mess of hair is her hair

the creak of her voice is

her voice,

the sound in her voice

her head speaks in her head

she can’t think to bear the burden

she can’t burden the burden to bear what had been

held

had she not seen

out the window, then

ecstasy

abhorring a vacuum in the

listless light,

and oh, the gentle morning

an encompassed jewel,

glinting with a thousand eyes.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

I do not own this photograph