top of page
read.png

Marionette




MOTH EATER (about to die) dreams

say, are we just meateaters on a spine

say, can we hold each by the balls of our joints 

one morsel at a time

our gaze trickling down

like milk on each other?

We haven’t got time left // fear is no luxury

I have flesh memories from my dreams

We used to spread like cream

can we split apart our fear finally,

spider lily of a yarn

and chew up our love like a pomegranate?

We’re plummeting like Plath

A scream of decay

Bundles in our nerves

can we make silhouettes jealous by how we meld together

Come on, hurry—

A wood rot spout from the mishmesh

In a scream

Leech of love

can we eat our dreams into reality? 

can we, can we?


Marionette on strings—

spit out our moths

Peel.

Your heart is warm like a fig

Seed on my tongue.

One half of a body healed whole

and spread our desire out on paper

as your spine curbs about 

Bird with two right wings—

We are curbed together in a dream,

Scream beneath my covers

Red-hot in my lovelust core

the bits of flesh

I can kiss in you.



  1. Phoenixes in death // dead dream on a candlestick 

I cannot die // in a poem // only a semi-colonial pause // the soft run of their gaze pressing the air out of me // deadweight on a page // i am a second hand pause // italicised heart // lolling like the ghost of a dotted i // my ribs are curved dashes // in a poem I have 9 lives // 7 times to die.

reborn in an open mouth // maybe you can rebirth my silence in assonance // and punctuate my meaning in a lisp // maybe you can relive me in a swallow // low glance // 

I cannot die in a poem // in everyone’s hearts but no one’s eyes // i am but a paperweight // butterfly crucified on a letter.

I cannot die in poem // and whimper in your voice // I cannot die in poem // for longer than the lazy run of an eye // I cannot die in a poem // and breathe in your sigh // I cannot die in a poem // and live where your eye lies // Because I haven’t even lived at all.


Comments


bottom of page