Dylan Thomas is my left handed lover
by Vikki Owens
and in that dream
i was eating fistfuls of salt
all the suppers
in the world did not taste as good
as the gritty white handfuls
filling my mouth.
all these sleepy, hapless humans
shambling day to day,
foggy corduroy colored faceless flotsam
wander down seedy streets,
but you, my love, you do shine.
you are the glinting buttons on the cuffs of my sleeves,
you are an ambient light that filters
through the broken fingers of my left hand
as i raise it to block the shine,
and as easy as i am, i do still hold out for you,
because what i have is all yours, not mine.
i sign my letters hopelessly,
or simply madly, v.
that last good bye was never
something i could give a positive spin,
a last shin-splint,
to remind you that i am as unstable as i seem
the kind of girl left eating salt in dreams.
not worthy of a boy who gleams.
Posted on 11/11/2011
Copyright © 2022 Vikki Owens
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Rob Littler on 11/11/11 at 11:47 PM|
tis a plague of incidental salt in the wounds of rememberance, a disease of unease and regretting only the time it takes to care, finally. I like the broken finger image, the broken knuckle ache it would take to flutter the sun so...
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/15/11 at 12:31 AM|
I'm becoming increasingly envious of styles like this one. I'm never disappointed with your work.