eighteen years of a high wire act
she ought to have been paid more
for
enough retreat to attack
the pinpoint cause exact
the ones who know me well have consistently declined
there must be something else to the world
warm to the touch
breathing like a boast
drove south looking down
headed out
up
out
clarinet discussions about language
about painting
about time
it's early in the morning that i miss him the most
i could just steal enough heat
made me feel less like a ghost
he would smile me to sleep then wake me with something to hold
i was both angry and crazy
now it's only been half enough time
to count days
yes the points were
one blind
the other fat
he loved my hair when i let it curl and wrap around what he always said was the prettiest face in every room jesus look at the moon
turn of the century north and fleet blush of cheeks
power red on my chest the long discussions to determine
what was best
i loved when he noticed me afraid
took me out tonight i was just going to stay
and hide
the ones who do not know me well have consistently declined
mistakes were at a premium
i started to think that i was one of them
and then the moment shouted
'shine on'
The Seagram Murals by Mark Rothko
No comments:
Post a Comment