moving in together

teeth tasting, tonguing
the sharp, bitter
pop, iridescent
effervescence winking
away as i chase,
open-mouthed, palate agape wide
to eat the shining
see-through soap.
our hands
are slimy with mr. bubble,
waving, reaching to hold
brief round moments
and pass them between
our fingers.
they cluster, compound,
disappear when we move
too quickly.
the late sun shines
through us.
"do you think we're still
children?" you say.
"yeah," i say
"i think we always will be."

transparent

like a vampire i rise
to meet myself in the glass
and stare
at the hollow void
i have become

thrift

like your old
clothing, lying hidden
in drawers, cardboard
boxes mouldering
in the attic,
like the
homemade things
you would have thrown out

i also
am discarded.

do this in remembrance of she *

sometimes
i scry my wrist like
an unwilling
oracle,
trace thin
white lines
from origin

to completion.
scarred flesh pillowy-soft at
surface, rope-like, raised
and rigid
underneath.
my fingertips
read lines like Braille,

this
from when i called hysterical,
cried, begged you
stay
on the line, i’m
scared, so scared,
so
can’t get the bleeding
to
stop.

this
from the year my watch strapped
permanently
over blown veins,
collapsed, bearing no blood,
vessels
mangled
through a fine science.


lines
i ignore out
of habit, almost
forget, until they
glint silver in
sunshine, draw attention
to my arms.

sometimes
i catch myself
in class, staring
at my skin,
touching, pulling
pleading memory
out of flesh,
begging
twisted tissue

for an
explanation.




*B.A. senior thesis poem

i actually wrote this in class, less than 10 days before my final thesis was due. i put it at the end; it seemed to sum up everything quite nicely.

butter *

smeared languidly
by
the middle finger on my
left hand, the
blood i wiped on my pants blotched
the thin, greying material, between
the spatters of paint.

you were oozing
between your shoulder blades, left of your spine
on the scapular
tattooed wing that webs
across you

i licked my finger
let the salt and tang dissolve into my tongue,
the way i want
to melt
into our lives, without interrupting
you, or me

effortlessly

as simple as freeing
you of droplets
that would have
stained your shirt.

i don’t mind shit
on my jeans.





*senior thesis poem