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And, Yes
by Lacey Smith
Yes, you are
a pacing movement of
arms, outstetched toward
all of these palpitations.
You are red
like every morning I
wake up to the inconsiderate
bleating of your words on my
pillows, sinking skin
like mouths
parched and still so very tired
Yes, I'm sighing
lightly, your ears are haunted
by the growing touch of
all of these consonants.
We are hollow
and bleaching our air
so our lungs will form patterns
of earth depleting from pores:
we are no more us but
tiny figures now,
motioning for a needed respite
Yes, we are
following the order of words
we ought not speak and
all of these forking trails.
Your veins are
all I need to know that
your body is pulsing here against
me, we are still alive and full of
nerves without ending
and senses that
pique interests one and another.
Yes, we are sighing and here
we are touching new
and you're here
and you are
and I know that it's you.
08/05/2005 Author's Note: Still a work in progress. I cannot figure out exactly how to smooth the rough edges. I like it though, and the sentiment is definitely there
Posted on 08/05/2005
Copyright © 2024 Lacey Smith
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