He's
oleander, sometimes,
and sometimes
black velvet,
splattered rum
he tastes
like ashes
on the tip of my tongue..
He can be
ragweed,
and milkweed
and a swift razorblade
to my arteries
if I let him be..
He's hyacinth, sometimes,
sometimes, the
moon in broad daylight,
the newspaper
yellowed and fading
in the dusk
on my doorstep.
He's poison, he's prison,
he shoots fire from his
mouth
when he tries to be
vengeful,
he hurts me, he heals me,
he's lilac and licorice,
he burns me like arson
he brings me to coming
when he's on top of me...
He's oleander sometimes....

11/09/2001

Posted on 11/09/2001
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