a rhyme in the third line

29 Dec

———–

a rhyme in the third line

 

inquisitive face

like a bookshelf in space

and a curious laugh, all constant illumination

gliding along

arm in arm

drunk, nearly there

my fingers are clutching her hair

slipping down to the neckline

she remarks that she’s wet

yet I felt no regret

since she wasn’t a frivolous bet

or a handshake, we met

at some friend of a friend’s

out in Ozone Park

where the night spreads like wildflowers

and other endearing remarks

a nestled anxiety

an aguey smirk (the fever 104 to the former 103)

my fingers creep along like a collector

along legs bordered by skirt

they pass like an outlaw

they steal like a thief

they search for an audience

and some abyssal relief

afterwards, I told her to go read that thirties’ Esquire piece

where the wit and the tragedy mixed with penultimate grief

the prose mangled and bloody like some conservative myth

I remind her of it while I’m rolling a spliff

we kiss as we part

and it’s a new twinkle I’ll miss

a new way, a new manner of longing

has come to exist

it becomes a canto at midnight

a light that’s transferred

a new beautiful breath in a hurrying world

 ——–

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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