Thursday, March 23, 2006

i don’t hold my breath for you these days, either *

i don't know why my mouth gums
up when you talk to me.
i tried to offer, meant
to say—two words, your
basic apology—
but
the words would not cleave, they
hung, forced the works to
a halt
until "uh-huh"

was my
only articulation.

these days we rarely speak
although
when we do,
i shake
around you

my prolific
mouth shudders to a halt
although

i itch to
say,
i’m sorry

you talked about the band, gave me
headphones to hear
your new songs,

especially
the
nerve
splinter
ing
one about me,

the rough
draft of which
i found hiding in my favorite novel
between 682, 83.
you sent it back
through a friend,
three months after i
asked for it
back

so now i remain,
with my tongue tied somehow about
your heart, which left

with you

an hour or two
ago, heading out into the night



*senior thesis poem

Sunday, March 12, 2006

to the metal *

dismantling the last three years of my life
i try to forget, as i meet people who interest me
that i will leave,
soon.

soon.
count down days like sand through my
fingers, gone
before i clench closed my
fist
a phone full of numbers i may,
but probably
won’t
call, too full
of excuses and a little,
admittedly, busy.

ahead lie roads i don’t
even know exist. but i like
driving, so

i whip around the curves,
engine rumbling so
satisfying oh yeah that’s
right pedal floor down
heading into the horizon

on roads going
no place

i’ve ever been.





*senior thesis poem