We go to the poems
to dress up in different tenses,
to put up little defenses,
and tear down fences,
to burn off layers of skin
to reach the deer tick hidden within.
We leave our surprises there in language
and create black ice
to make ourselves ever aware,
you can skid off the road
just about anywhere.
Sometimes we drop
a some cheap roses into the shopping cart sonnet.
Sometimes a flask into the feature,
Just to numb the fact
someone out there is causing us
A heart attack
Every few months, we look back and try
to repair those words we punched into the walls of our being,
if it might have been better to just keep silent and dreaming?
Constantly we throw handfuls
of seeds to see what they sprout.
Sometimes we find
other times a drought.
and reread our lines
like we’re learning to tie a shoe,
and trip over our laces again & again,
and get scared we’ll never be able to do it.
All we want is to break someone’s lip open,
either by kiss or fist. All we want is
some blood, some maple, some honey,
something that causes
someones ears to fold back
or move the moon into someones eyes.
All we ache for is love,
A sun to outlive our night,
That’s why we’ll always
go to the poems because they provide
those gasps and awes
that makes our eyes
widen, in surprise,
rendering us stunned