I’ve lost my edge
words form round and vague
my sharp is a dull knife
I keep the gods at my feet
swiping at them whenever they move too far
bringing them closer with the power of my hair
the call of the other side has never been more far away when my coffee arrives it’s been saturated with magic
I’ve lost my rough
words land on the roof
or under barstools and sticky tables
my fingers forgot how to fight
instead they tap
slow and soft
the light in the room rotates muted and pale
the wind floats through like smoke
sheer curtains hold the glass hummingbird in place
smothering her wings
I don’t know how to describe this smell
a mixture of leaves from trees and red mud
there’s a shocking white trash liner
flapping a doves wing at me
from the edge of the copper can
his typing makes noise
I’m quiet like a prayer or a calm but approaching storm
the puppy tries to steal my potato
then sits between our writer’s hips
he has been the one since beer came by the pitchers
and prime rib served at Sunday dinners
rains hits the gravel driveway
reminding me of rivers past
sitting on rocks meditating about the day
the sky looks like a cloud
wrapping around my windows
holding us in place
I could turn and look at him if I wanted to
but the palms wave my attention away
we charged the deck on the night of the portal
and now she tells me I’m a serpent
I feel the twisting in my sternum like a drill
my smile has shaped into a new form
I’m not ready to swallow yet
so laundry sits waiting for me fold
doors remain open waiting for me to close
and the shelves remain out of place
waiting for me to arrange
my wish was for peace
not quiet peace
but active charged peace
hot wire peace
peace that remains alive
the kind of peace that keeps me in bed
but my hands are moving towards my lover
my eyes see through a web of history
but my feet are pointed towards the future
and my tummy cradles the edge
holding her in hibernation
but for now my skin can breath in the silence
words form round and vague
my sharp is a dull knife
I keep the gods at my feet
swiping at them whenever they move too far
bringing them closer with the power of my hair
the call of the other side has never been more far away when my coffee arrives it’s been saturated with magic
I’ve lost my rough
words land on the roof
or under barstools and sticky tables
my fingers forgot how to fight
instead they tap
slow and soft
the light in the room rotates muted and pale
the wind floats through like smoke
sheer curtains hold the glass hummingbird in place
smothering her wings
I don’t know how to describe this smell
a mixture of leaves from trees and red mud
there’s a shocking white trash liner
flapping a doves wing at me
from the edge of the copper can
his typing makes noise
I’m quiet like a prayer or a calm but approaching storm
the puppy tries to steal my potato
then sits between our writer’s hips
he has been the one since beer came by the pitchers
and prime rib served at Sunday dinners
rains hits the gravel driveway
reminding me of rivers past
sitting on rocks meditating about the day
the sky looks like a cloud
wrapping around my windows
holding us in place
I could turn and look at him if I wanted to
but the palms wave my attention away
we charged the deck on the night of the portal
and now she tells me I’m a serpent
I feel the twisting in my sternum like a drill
my smile has shaped into a new form
I’m not ready to swallow yet
so laundry sits waiting for me fold
doors remain open waiting for me to close
and the shelves remain out of place
waiting for me to arrange
my wish was for peace
not quiet peace
but active charged peace
hot wire peace
peace that remains alive
the kind of peace that keeps me in bed
but my hands are moving towards my lover
my eyes see through a web of history
but my feet are pointed towards the future
and my tummy cradles the edge
holding her in hibernation
but for now my skin can breath in the silence
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