After The Score
She touched me
(caught by the stillness of panic in her eyes)
and rode my thoughts like a flame
her skin spread across my nightssky.
Her softness closed around my hand.
(she nods as i whisper)
‘i read your chart . . .
and suspect many things . . . None i know.’
(her hair falls upon, covers, me)
‘but you will be beautiful again.’
i, (one finger looped about my dead mothers limb)
but the moon fell before daybreak
Eyes open, but vision slow to rise,
i mistake its place
and her movement.
She fed me.
i, (mourning her shrinking breasts)
looked in as green drove blackness to a pinpoint
and found myself clasped in green
falling, on a nightthread held secure
Her seeing is rhythm just behind my ear
i feel it Throbbing and ride
‘you could be beautiful again’
and i could rise (head erupting thru her sky)
i am only one of many
most of them memories she keeps
bruises on a pear
my face is brown with fallings
i, (one finger looped about my dead mothers limb),
She found me so
and shook me free:
released breath and Heaved me
She gave me flight (without wind)
i sank into the folds of her skin
At dawn she drinks turpentine (to bring it off)
and deposits my body in a greasyspoon toilet
finishes a cheeseburger
(drink another coke)
‘but i am not aborted’
my finger severed, i swing free
(my dead mother laughing at me).
Dream ends, sunlight grows.
its burnings recurr (her body!)
my drug a lioness
(softly her claw slides
into a vein)
i am air, sleeping within her easily consumed,
my desire orphaned,
drowning in a toilet
waiting to flow