Category: Poetry

there is something
ephemeral
about a touch

it makes me think of
a kiss
on the palm

a cold nose
against my cheek

the accident of life
that makes a cool breeze
feel like the world can

breathe

how do you forget
how it tastes?
say, a grape.
succulent, sweet, and leaving you wanting more.

you don’t.

you try an apple
or two
watch the sky
hoping a cloud
will tarot a new shape for you
and you smile
because it is a beautiful day, and an apple is nice.

but,
you think
that grape.

(not) finite.

(you) misapprehend my hunger.

here. hold your hand to the night sky
to measure its depth
by reach
or
close your fingers
around the stars
and

tell me
  how many
  you can hold

tell me
  the distance between the darkness,
  your captured stars,
  and my
     hunger.

tell me
  you already had this dream
  that the sky
  is no darker
  than the belly
  of my beast.

tell me
  you understand that submission
  and salvation
  can both be found
  on your knees

this is your last chance.

the last open door

the last bit of daylight

the last choice
before all the rest
belong
to
me.