Here You Are. Here I Am. Here We Were.
1995we dig a hole to china in the sandbox
two feet deep.
we name it victory and cry on tuesday when
the janitor comes at night and fills it in
quietly, tamping the sand with his
broad hands.
1999
alice jennings sobs in the bathroom.
i wash my hands five times before
i ask what is wrong.
"fuck off bitch," she says.
"ok," i say, and dry my hands
carefully.
later i will draw her a picture of a sun,
fold it into an origami star
and then go home and tear it into
1,000 pieces.
2003
he dies.
2006
we lay placidly, listening to the
gentle humming of the fan. you
drum fingertips against my hip.
"are you ok?" you ask. your hand
speaks a foreign language to my
ribs.
"probably," i say.
2007
i lied.
Poetry by Inked.
Read 1581 times
Written on 2007-02-27 at 04:23
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by Inked. Latest textsThe Tulips All Have Died.Exit 129. Tire Fragments. Here You Are. Here I Am. Here We Were. 09-04-89 My favoritesThe Beech TreeTo the wind |
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