your bones have a sediment i can't understand, and
it grates against my nerves. our mutual
tendons are creased and cracked and losing their
form, their stretch. your dried mouth mumbles
words i refuse to acknowledge;
outside the leaves are turning from
granny smith to orange peel
in minutes, the time it takes
for you to say endearment and
disappointment.

i've found that hard to do,
waiting for the orange peels to boil.
i used the tea to ease the pain
of my bones wearing thin--
you used to use it as jam
but the hot water would mush
the cracker away.
you were never good at holding things together.

our things fell to disarray and you nimbly
stepped among the clutter without
a word, or glance. and i'd watch
as more of our memories and good
flaked off and settled with the rest
of our future. the lines we walk
never looked straight, but they had direction.
now, we toe a trail of weeds
with sad shoes and dying soles.

i watched my feet burn brown
over the heat of a thousand
coals.
i just watched them shed off
faint hints of red hot flesh
discarded like an old sweater in a dumpster
hopefully left there
to be found
by a shivering vagabond
on some november night.
you never did knit me those socks
or cobbled my shoes.
i walked alone from you
but i did walk alone.

back against the places we built,
my feet drag along in inches.
street corners turn into guide posts
as the bodies huddled look more familiar
than your smile, as hours grow older
and i travel farther
away.
under the pressure of our could be's
and unwanted ending credits, our
skin shrivels tighter as if our cells
have given up survival strategies
and grown cold, crimping close together
for warmth against the negative degrees
we flake off in all the heated words.

i wish i could eat your words
and digest them
just so i can say i shitted out a piece of you.

10/29/2005

Author's Note: alaina again :)

Posted on 10/30/2005
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