Wednesday, October 27, 2010

something about wind

gust, ruby waves, a flame
beating and calling and breaking
the tame, the hold placed on souls
that hold their own breath;
that mutter more but will
not chase; that catch
their writhing tongue behind
their teeth; bound wrists like
lakeless fish; fingers shiver
for flight- to flee, to breach

blowing through me and
catching in my chest-
spin, build, stir, brush
up next to the harsher parts of me,
hardly internal, that bruise
slowly the vulnerable in others;
erode both fa├žade and truths
that should not be true
and leave me human, only.

sweep my skin as you pass
and glassy eyes go dry and ask
do you feel? yes; less:
heavy and penurious and pressed
hollowed now and thirsting
for movement, to be
drowned in another's depth, to
be full and still
filled more, for foreign hands
and minds and a certain kind
of alone, for an expanse within,
to be gradual in gain, sudden
in knowing, to be wind.

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