42/365

You see her frightful beauty, her bird-bone-fingers,
the angles of her wingless shoulders, and
you know you must break her–
hold her hollow bones beneath you,
know the softness of the sky.
Her pale skin is glowing
ice in transient moonlight.
lulled by the whisper of her breath
you stare, astounded by shades of gray,
like layered clouds, around her iris.
Those eyes might cry for you,
rain on the desert that is her smile-barren face,
and blossom soft and tender amidst those thorns,
surely then her lap would not be steel,
and her dreamless eyes might see you.

41/365

It is a remnant from our last supper,
I am begging for it to stay.
Your dismissive discourse shakes
that crumb dangling on the stubble
at the corner of your lips.
You slap your tongue against
your cheek, make your skin tremble
with the clomping of your teeth.
I am akin to this foreign crumb–
unwanted, but pressed against you,
knee to knee beneath the table for warmth.
Your frequency is not right, your mouth too vacuous,
when your muscles silence and your body stills
the appetizer bread bit tumbles to your lap.
You look at me awaiting response.
I raise my fingernails to trace my lip,
finding no crumbs of my own
I stand up, laughing manic, and leave.

40/365

Your smile is alarming as
your skin creases, and I count the
wrinkles, like tree rings, around your lips.
When did it change from lust
through parted lips to
the tension that arises
from too many years of trying.
The corners of your dry mouth trembles–
uncertain in desire
to cry or to lunge.
I have become a different kind of prey–
you thirst no longer for my kiss.

39/365

I’ve given up the rigidity that my bones offer
to the structured movement of my limbs
I’m just tumbling loose and uncertain
scattering bits of old flesh and
atrophied muscle.
what matters to the matter-less?
its time to let go.

38/365

This day is yellow-orange trees ablaze against unblemished sky,
the breeze is too perfect-cold, whispering against blushed cheeks–
I should like to say that all is pleasure–
frost ripe apples against teeth–
but I see only a vision of impending catastrophe,
shadows starched crisp–radiating darker, deeper.
with each dance of sharp edged leaf against concrete
I long to accept the shifting of sundial shadow
against soon barren earth, but the hair is rising on my arm,
my body is tensed–waiting for the sorrow.

37/365

I dust my skin for your fingerprints,
but I am imprinted in confusion–
contoured in the glancing graze
of too many hungers.
Lightly you have trembled
against my bones.  I will shed
you molecule by molecule
with the sloughing of my skin.
If you, like mercury,
slide into the deepest pocket
of my blood you may take refuge–
you may fight your way into my marrow.