We don't belong to each other.
We belong together.
Some poems
belong together to prove the intentionality of subatomic particles.
Some poems eat with scissors.
Some poems are like kissing a
porcupine.
God, by the way, is disappointed in some of your recent choices.
Some poems swoop.
When she said my eyes were
definitely blue, I said, How can you see that in the dark?
How can
you not? she said, and that was like some poems.
Some poems are
blinded three times.
Some poems go like death before dishonor. Some poems go like the time she brought cherries to the movies;
later a heedless picnic in her bed.
Never revered I crumbs so
highly.
Some poems have perfect posture, as if hanging by
filaments from the sky.
Those poems walk like dancers,
noiselessly.
All poems are love poems.
Some poems are better off
dead.
Right now I want something I don't believe in.
I looove this one. Good job on the spacing, Katy! I'm still wanting to write an angry letter to James Galvin about how difficult it is to share his poetry. I guess it's true that some poems swoop.
ReplyDeletethanks, the font is still off a bit, obviously, but I'm sick of playing with this one.
ReplyDeleteRight now I want something I don't believe in. Sigh, doesn't get any better.