Tuesday, July 7, 2009

how provocative

i'm half sleeping, exhausted, a flower between teeth

how provocative

dried and dying carnation
i've been waking up to broken petals in my bed

dark and bloody red against my purple sheets
i dont know where they came from, floating round

snapped stem

in my dreams i speak another language, older than the languages that we together know, mine counting hardly for anything; your coin is worth more than my own to me

this habit will make me poor, i expect
very poor in the long run

but i know i'll wear it willingly
and make it mine

you've never minded my silk scraps anyway
never minded my frayed edges
tired beyond time

in my dreams i speak another language; silence, and eyes. it's easy to be fluent
to be eloquent, in dreams

it's all as mysterious as time
yet unrealized

a bloody flower forming that long line, across a pale mouth
what features
so defined

how provocative

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