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"too much stuff, too many places, too much information, too many people, too much of things for there to be too much of, there is too much to know and i don't know where to begin but i want to try."

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

yawn, why are you so silent?

ankle-length skirts and oatmeal for dinner
yes i'm a very old woman
but where was my age in the sunrising arch
of floral stockings?
horrendous headache and a vague clinging past
wrap around my neck but don't keep away
the shiver of winter or
the steady draining blood from fingertips
yes i'm old and crippled
paralyzed on diner benches and in car seats
behind the wheel and behind life
yawn, why are you so silent?
white air but invisible life
much too quick for weak knees
and weary shoulders
strengthened by push-ups but tired from
pushing the earth back into place
the bed sinks under weight of exhaustion
and eyes remain open to greet slanted reflections
when will tomorrow arrive undisputed?
celexa shoveling through snow
mock bliss and empty sockets
a mouth to use
catch snowflakes
throat to burn
and the air passes silent from
body to body

1 comment:

Geneviéve Cuva said...

You are on a roll of fantastic writing. I feel a little redundant, but seriously. "tired from pushing the earth back into place", and essentially every line, = beautiful.
But I think one of my favorites is the "sunrising arch of floral stockings". That's just me.