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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| let's get integrated, baby--
so tired of the periphery. | | |
| The half of her that
he contributed died that day,
bludgeoned by his reckless unmemory.
She gradually succumbs
to her maternal half:
in a trickle of cajoling,
to a stream of hassling,
to an ocean of annoying.
They both drown
in the echoes---
her mother's voice,
treacherous waves crashing
against the walls of consciousness. | | |
| Dah, I don't know why it's getting so hard to express my ideas... College, making me dumb, I suppose.
Round and round
the racetrack,
sucking on something
to escape
the insanity of the same road,
seeming to stretch on and on,
but circling back slowly
like a noose around my neck.
My lips seduced by this pattern,
encircle the lollipop;
my tongue, serpentine,
coiling and uncoiling.
Lollipop follows lollipop--
the kind the bank teller
tossed in with Mommy's money
just for riding along
in the constricting carseat.
Familiar, artificial fruit
awakens dormant desires:
feel that young,
gaze from those wide-open eyes.
Now lollipops don't come free
and Mommy isn't
driving. | | |
| Hm yeah this one is super-dorky and probably not a good idea/concept at all but I tried 
Carousel
Each girl chose a stationary steed.
Most wanted white horses
with necks gracefully curving;
snouts meeting muscular chests,
but the elephant was for me.
"An elephant never forgets," I quoted,
scaling the smooth plastic saddle.
"Poor thing," I murmured,
thinking of the burden I must be.
A sardonic smile streaked across my lips,
unnoticed by my companions.
Patting the sleek surface,
my hand seemed pale against the bright
floral wreath encircling its neck.
One ride and I was gone, leaving
only a few fingerprints---
quickly marred by successors---
and my initials
hastily etched by nail file
into the plastic sheen.
(Just in case he forgot.) | | |
| The Paralysis of Expression
"Cold," you call it
When I refuse
To lock myself in,
To serve a sentence
In your prison of words.
I watch them twist and curl
Around the bars
Like vines
Ready to trip, ensnare
If left to flourish;
Snakes poised to strike
My lips as they leave,
Releasing a venom
That muddies my blood
And numbs | | |
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