by Aaron Blair

Your traitor's tongue, it lies,
inside your mouth like a slug,
and me, forgetting, that once
it moved slowly across my flesh,
etching untruths that I believed.
Love is a scar, a named tattooed,
no use in not recalling, no purpose
in trying to pretend that memory
has failed you when it is all you
have left, thrusting open the door
to your mind's eye, breaking locks.
My body will never be bare again.
The ghost of us is wrapped around
me, a straight jacket, a second skin.


Posted on 10/06/2004
Copyright © 2023 Aaron Blair

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Ashok Sharda on 10/06/04 at 02:48 PM

'The ghost of us is wrapped around me, a straight jacket, a second skin.'. Yes, these associations shall never die, not even in dreams.

Posted by Tony Whitaker on 03/09/07 at 12:24 AM

Aaron, I love your dark and mysterious style. Like Lori Blair, Gregory O'Neill, JD Clay and many others I would love to sit and talk with you all for 30 minutes just to see what makes you tick! The bitter edge of this poem makes me cringe and delight in the beauty of the imagery and flow....

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/11/08 at 02:21 AM

Most excellent. The visual of the slug across tongue is quite gagging and effective. The last two lines are hauntingly descriptive and enduring, as any good ghost would know.

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