the length of your zipper seems forever
before the seams of skin are touched
and i want to become worn and ragged, weathered
a pair of levi’s for your soul and sin
something broken down by possessive love...

the wonder of that face you were making
and i'm amazed at you thinking
that my beginning encodes my end,
we haven’t even made it to the thick of the centre

arrange me alphabetically,
as if appearances should feel so uniform,
i’m sure i’d suit you better that way
but still somewhere inside me
there is
a curse, a swear, a dirty word,
something we don't speak of;
only metaphorically
in that stern tone
or in naïve glances at the floor

if this shot glass makes you wiser,
there's a bottle somewhere with your name on it
calling you to ease your apprehension,
and at the elastic band of my underwear,
where you thumb and index rest,
i become a metaphor
that puts your etiquette to the test...

i am your container, your slogan, your composer,
a metaphor in your confessional to your priest,
and everything falling from your mouth
is a word i once confided in myself,
you’re blowing secrets in the wind
and i wish that you were speechless
blasphemous prayers
i wish that you had less breath

just one more gasp left
this should take less effort

wake up beside me,
in beds, in blankets, in caskets of love,
let the mourners roll by
admire the being that is us,
remember us as song
just one more key; left un-stroked
just one intention; left un-played

we could roll around in sheets of music
i could mesh with you and be a symphony,
but you turn away leaving me
wishing i could be a key; but i lay
un-played
a piano piece of ivory;
un-tickled
by such fingers,
and even if you moved yourself against me,
i'd just be a humming within your dirge,
a note inside your rhyme,
that dirty little metaphor
whispered while in church,
a portion of a prayer said
while waiting for the hearse...

07/02/2005

Author's Note: I'm amazed at his genius.

Posted on 07/02/2005
Copyright © 2010 Nicole Hyde