by Steven Kenworthy
having drinks and dinner its midnight its dark out in
things change friends wear
costumes of old costumes before they take off
what everyone else is wearing is too much to see
with music barely breathing a whispertone
seeing through fabric to
hands in hands like giants tread carefully
and skin exposed takes days, no, minutes to unravel a sweater
i will never forget what you had on. in spinning
& tackled you
smiled laughed some at me stared shook
the floor beneath you beneath me
there was no shady tree to be beneath for us but
crossing a bridge and building blocks the parts are
the pieces were
i was on top of you and focusing on
the fan and the paintings that saw & sat up front the dreams in rows
eating up the people playing themselves as them asking
each other awkward questions from in the middle of nowhere between
innocent friction Here and There on a map next to
Floralsheets, Mybedroom, USA
all-americans not standing united not standing at all
roads twisted into
resident travel agent putting together something nice
the tourists must be happy
take detailed pictures
wear the camera inside the backs of heavy eyelids like memory boxes
photocase for the next step in the stairs the shirts
the store image booth is not to close anytime soon.
through microscope a lash of yours takes residence on my shoulder
by choice or accident, moving in for the kill the crash
the things that make me me are mixing with the things that
make you you and blendernight is running hard the engine
is remember spinning to take away the gravity of the actions
& return it a few degrees later warmer fever centripetal
spring the fall that is honestly going on at the moment is the realest
artery pushing blood back to the heart picnic
anatomy of this cycle path biking through you in ten speeds
pumping cells as shedding layers tugging pantlegs going home
down the road a bit,
to finish the journey without a layer to spare tired as ever
to wake in shock and strut across the room and i did admire you.
Author's Note: whew this is saucy...and old.
wow...it's almost a tragedy that i even wrote this...ha.
Posted on 12/10/2006
Copyright © 2020 Steven Kenworthy
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/12/06 at 05:45 AM|
Yes, a beautiful thing. This is how it happened to me too... and my husband always says..."marry your best friend". You've amazingly captured (like a "memory box photocase") these moments...left the "store image box" open, mirroring this next "step in the stairs"(wonderful expression)... as
kaleidoscopic as you are here, I felt with you all the way, and from your intimately described perspective, wow, wonderful!
|Posted by Cristy M. on 12/12/06 at 11:19 PM|
generally, i have a pretty short attention span for reading ditties on the computer so i skim or ignore them altogether BUT i have to say that you have quite the rhythm and pace about this piece here that makes it a pleasure to read. it's good licks from beginning to end, particularly the costume lines and the last one there. very sexy.
|Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 12/12/06 at 11:22 PM|
i'm in love. you wrote love and it fit perfectly and i'm in it. dear god, this is without a doubt something amazing. if not for the use of 'blendernight' alone...