dear readers, this is the poem "caught in the crossfire" revised, hopefully to paint more pictures and have deeper emotion. i hope that you enjoy :)
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In our kitchen,
Tiled sage and sausage-red
We stand across, facing each other.
I am a gun loaded with tears, poised and glaring
Voice rubbed raw as knuckles to a cheese grater
(and you have your bow
put down on the table between us:
the torn limb of an olive nymph, meant as peace).
Your empty fingers hold no arrows and I know
But the shadow of one seems to graze by
And — I cannot
Stop.
My lips pull the trigger:
Metal droplets of rain cascading
Crowding to that stormcloud inside of you like
Magnets to a knife
It clips tender-toothed carnations to your chest
And swings right on through
(your heart weeps red crayola wax, and
I staunch it, fingers trembling;
my scarlet handprints wind
all over the playground gravel).
You crumple towards me—
Lunging, I catch you, and we are
Crumbling to the ground, crumbling
Like your mother's pie crust on Saturday, tilting towards
Drops of caffeine soaked into caramel apples,
Tongues jammed into a silence sweet as blueberry compote
Fleeting moments of smiles we hid from ourselves
—And I blink and we are back in that kitchen.
Your bare feet slap the slimy, December-chilled tile.
You disappear out the door like balloons in a breeze.
In the field of my mind I lie alone in the silence
And I am: a kite blown off course,
Stuck in a tree, surrounded by crows,
Pecked away to a skeleton of
Tree bones.
YOU ARE READING
0;00
Poetrya collection of random pieces of poetry that i've written in 2023. (really, anything from love to surrealism.) huge thanks to anyone who reads this; most of the stuff in here probably makes absolutely no sense (even to me, lol). mostly inspired by t...
