I Remember You Well

30 Sep

————

I Remember You Well

 

I have an early whore in my righteous dream

a pain so tired

so painted and plaintive

that she would have you assume that she means well

like a new world

that can no longer wear a white dress

like that little sound that left

on a loud evening in a loud city

only to become the soft spark

in the insomnious eyes in adversarial windows

that you stand mute watching

hoping that they have the key

to art and depression and the touch you no longer remember

an expression of a suffering that no longer creates

 

I have an early whore in my righteous dream

a yelp in a clinical blue

wailing like the extirpating knife of the floating proposition

exterminating like a destiny

something like reading Lorca for the first time

in a dream that found sanctuary and love in the desert

that dims with the subtlety of armageddon

the tenderness of separation, nothing left to rest on a bottle of wine

and then she’ll speak from the atramental dark

as though she knows where her heart will lead us

to a bed where her inertia will smell of lavender and aloe

a passion of erratum dripping to erasure

until the final sigh will mark her interest waned

and she’ll say “see you in a year or so, wandering between my legs”

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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