Friday, November 7, 2008

An Atmosphere of a Minotaur’s Tomb

We now become delinquent splices of Gemini
the happiness of picking a scab.

Courting Pluto

Remember thin lips sealed closed,
turned backs
hearts glued shut
Our eyes becoming frozen fish in a pond,
Arteries no longer your wires.

I recall times greater than those

Like your angled back catching and keeping the sun
making it stay
Letting only heaven’s light refract
Before you punish your spine to retract
Our lungs climbing together, in sync with breath
(you then curse it for blooming off track)

How you grow, accept, and learn from death

When did our arms clothe something fragile?
Legs locked it was now difficult to tell
Between the sacred labyrinths and layers of heart
Until the day I was caught counting backwards with the tile
The sky cracked open,
Clouds screeched and told us,
“Stay more than awhile”

Is there a proper measure of distance to stand from a stranger?

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