sketch 8

she pours the sweetness into the receiver,
and he lies floored, heart spilling blood
on dirty white carpets, there isn’t talk
of tears anymore,

less a conversation:more a promise.

Crimson flaws
like untrapped passion--a distance grown shorter
by the long cuts of night he threads with his tongue.

to unravel the code of parted lips is to
clue into the world as a whole:

in the air thoughts and promises all deny
gravity,
words rise to inhabit the temperature of
a room.

he is so openly honest that his red river
assumes he will drown, and this is not
the way of fatalism, this is an open
mouth kiss of delta known only as waiting.

pm soundtrack:

nina simone best of; nick drake time of no reply; van morrison moondance