L(ove) Words 2009

journal p. 529

Your eyes, a kind of brown

I dare not describe, because to say

they are ambers

washed in the raw seawater greens would be

obsessive, I am

so eager to take you in,

your soft hair, pale skin

so easily flushed, embarrassed, resistant

like your facial hair’s subliminal

feedback, the pricking as if to say

no, you don’t

actually want me.

The Rejection Kiss

When our lips not only touch

but lock in the saliva of our

acquainting tongues,

our faces tilt with our bodies

moving to spill body heat

flooding in the fabric of your bed;

and almost colder than

the air conditioned room

you stared,

eyes wide, hazel

on my face has never been

so harsh—I used to like that

eye colour.

Pale, pale skin—

do I, or perhaps you

read too much into those

panda eyes

not so much brown as they are

earthy, no, reflective.

I imagine you fallen,

restlessly staring into ground beneath

not with scorn but a sense of wonder

why

has the earth pulled you down,

taking away the strength in your legs

and forced your body upon

this bed, unwilling to absorb you back

into the creation?

I want to be this earth,

this entity so familiar to your body,

your mind but incapable of

taking you in—

I want this longing

of flesh, to become one,

forever alone

with you.

Floss

Be the floss in my teeth,

the angry non-flosser who

for the first time in months

was made to floss

so hard, so frustrated this

intrusion of white

brighter and more critical

than what he’s used to. Blood

is his only release—

this jealously rushing

to the surface because it’s

better to hurt now

than stain forever.

Shower steam,

warmth, moist—

The skin (or callous?) of my feet

touched, mid-stretch

and they stuck together;

a second,

enough to looked

as though the cells decided

today

they didn’t care for the divorce,

the split—the want

to become one again.

Perhaps they were confused

that moment, dazed,

wet, ecstatic,

but strangely

romantic.