thanks to bert for filming: / bertie
and duumu for the music: / duumu
t.co/xhac7yWRTo
t.co/RimOqEIGRg
words:
surrounded by the sloughed ribbons of my body
i take the long way home and find you there, girl
banner in a rioting wind, capricious little grouch
starved for something unknown to everyone
especially you- of course you’re angry
watch as you eddy the tadpoles
thinking yourself some omnipotent god
from the pond skaters, the foxgloves, you’ll accept
prayers until lunch
scent awash in green
raking at tree bark knees
a growing thing
it’s you, really, in the murky water and the mason jar
you’re a relic of a soil-buried epoch
phosphene-drenched kaleidoscope of days,
days which yawn so deeply
they wrap round the other side
too dizzying to love anywhere
but from a distance
when we meet i hold your face in my hands
(myfaceyourhands)
you smile like swelling yellow spring and plead
take me with you, finished thing
and how, then, can i not piece myself back
together? she’s wrong.
still flowering, same baby-wrists encircled
by blades of grass, same
metallic ring of bird bones:
so how can i not look at myself -
(in the reflective universe behind our house,
off the silver-tinged powder of august haze) -
how can i not look at myself and
love her, too
Негізгі бет a growing thing: a poem
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