coreyleighkirby
it is a show
her self-assuredness
her okayness
her"I'm fines".
she is terrified
but she is a god
of performance
from sun
beamed on body
days and days
until flesh rot
kidney and lung
or carrion birds
leave only bone
she will stay
road killed on road
where he pulled her under him
and left her
to bleed out
on you
once twice thrice
in love
each time only head in clouds
always
only fish heart
like thick viens pulled
up from earth-skin
by cloud-god
palm against bark
heat might be from sun
might be from
high up heart
reach after straw man
on wind he fly fast
cuff of his sleeve just quicker
n ur finger tips
know you love him
he know too?
u push off ground with toes
grab his shoulder
he gone
you left with hands
fulla hay
like a net over ocean
wind lifting it up, pushing it down
sailor arms struggle
to keep it in place
to hostage just a bite
of the sea
to live on
so you cast your body
over mine
of giant beanstalks
and men on moons
and bread-crumb trails,
it is no wonder
we are so
unsatisfied.
walls yellow from cigarette smoke,
peeling from humidity
of georgia.
her baby begins to cry
and she looks down at him
as if she has forgotten
he is the weight in arms.
as if she did not remember
that without him, she wouldn't
feel so heavy.
the wood floor
speaks to my feet
as they sweep
up & down the hall.
"go to sleep"
it creaks, moans
as wind bends beneath
it.
when you are a writer,
everything talks.
never think
about rain
and baseball
and the sound of a wet bat
missing the thin skin
of a perfect pitch.
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