09 | February | 2016 | Golden Star Poetry

there, it will stop
my bottle feeding:
constant nourishment.

we dance together, playfully.
the old man at the bus stop
sees me (only) and smiles,
because he thinks i’m a carefree girl
he couldn’t be more wrong.
i need to be careful,
if he’s looking.

sundays aren’t good
too much thinking
thinking on ones own leads to drowning.
i write poems about you and
never read them aloud
i think they might be
too personal
for others to figure out.

there, he says
soothe your bottle feeding.
i will check up on you
every couple of hours
i will make sure the nurses
give you drip feeding
and that you have plenty of rest.

i will sit by your bed and
read you bedtime stories,
with my hand over your heart
i swear
i will speak in soothing voices
i will never let go.
this is what i imagined my heart
to tell me, but it quickly turned around.
all i can think of is earthlyness
i cannot know of love.
you become earth bound,
physically possessing what you have not
no emotional desire,
go on lung power,
long as you can breathe.

no,
he says,
i stay here for ever.