My partner in most things interesting has picked up her pen again
And I like writing with her, next to her, about her, so. Maybe it's time to revive the poetry portion of this blog again. That's where the creatures live, anyway.
I'm 100% sure nobody really reads my blog. Anyway here's a sassy poem.
The quiet of your bedroom,
or the hush of fresh snow
on a meadow or an abandoned lot
between two looming
city buildings at 3 am.
The way your skin tastes,
salt, a kalamata olive, after night
and the way we tangle like sweaty hair,
breath at the nape of your neck.
The way you punctuate your sighs
like the dropped fragments of
Sappho's lost volumes, or thunder
that rolls up from your stomach
and slips out in a jaw-clenched growl.
The way young women speak with
a flip at the end of their sentence, a question on pointe,
like we don't know how this will end
but breathless, stumbling, we find our way.
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