How Curious it Is

How curious it is

to expand the boundaries of your reign

by cementing walls.

 

Your words

slither in constant contortion,

Circling and stalking

your enclosure

 

A glimpse of a new wound

When you think your cries and beating wings

Have muddled my senses

 

And so you change your story

 

It is easy to stay up there, looming in the clouds

A threat

A presence

 

And yet…

 

How curious it is

That through your bullshit

you expect me to stay stagnant behind this pen you built?

 

 

I choose a different pen.

Rishikesh

I come to you, a pilgrim
To bathe in the arms of my mother.
Her healing tears lap on your holy shores,
Only the littered water affirms my entrance to a land of loss.
The orange cloth rekindles my meditation
But I’m distracted by its filth, clouding your purity.
A tinkling chime calls my eye to the shining coat of a four-legged passerby
Yet my virgin hooves do not know your broken streets.
I look to my Father, his peaks in perfect reflection, mighty and unmoved.
Hoping, wishing, praying…
it starts to rain.

Taken

The soft of your thumb

Traces the cracked

sour of my lips

As if the calm in you will heal the hurt in me

 

Hot words

fall out of your mouth

and into the hollow of mine

As if the thoughts in you pervade the empty in me

 

The breath of your cologne

Masks the familial aroma

of my maiden name

As if the scent of you reclaims the past of me

 

Until every good piece of you consumes

every bad piece of me

I Blush

As you are taken with me

 

Or have you taken me