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Leathertongue
by V. Blakebreathe out, deeply.
mouth tastes like old blood
and i cannot decipher
this dead man's autograph.
i just hold there, apart,
with awkward limbs and sexual hangups,
fashioning rules of syntax
for moments and memories--
soon, then, to be recognized
for a lack of something more.
the days go by but
they are not touched,
i am all i ever thought i'd be. 01/10/2017 Posted on 01/10/2017
Copyright © 2024 V. Blake
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/16/17 at 08:20 PM Fascinating piece. I am intrigued by the dead man's autograph, love the "fashioning rules of syntax for moments and memories", and really like the untouched days. Cool. Thanks! |
| Posted by LK Barrett on 02/05/17 at 05:52 AM The sense of isolation from even the passage of time, a thick blanket of numbness that requires a different language structure to even construe the past—just wow. TYVM for a great write. LK |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 06/18/17 at 10:22 PM Yes, I know you! |
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