tender collector
art & ecology
magpoost@gmail.com
tender collector
art & ecology
magpoost@gmail.com
IMJM: Love Poem 1
you speak of beauty as if it were
a thing upon your chest as if
a soft sweet round melon had been planted in you
before you first cried. I mark the time by
matching the hue of the sky to the blue of your eye:
darker inward concentric circles pinpricked by gaping hole.
of lilac and migrating birds, the pocket of air
right before an exhale, bright tumescent orange and
roses so many roses. cloth worn against bodies, assuming
the shape of bodies second skin, tenterhooks and
settling in for winter. the transcience of a slideshow of emerald
landscapes, the in-between.
there are ways in which this is unusual I am uninterested in
learning their names. The gravity of you a black oval stone dropped
into a still pond, a slice to the inner flesh. I would give my bones.
in your bed I watch the lilaclilywhitesky fold in half
envelope of the sun open moon sliced crescent nail mark in
your back. I think of intangibles
watch through your window a small bird
sleep on a branch in
a snowstorm your
hands she naps in
a pocket of heated exhalations your
arms the sight she has had
of the fields and the brooks and
I see her framed through your window, portrait in
earthly matters. hot breath knows the insides
of our bodies and she perches on
gray bark, my mind outstretched towards her:
fingers. the ripple on your ceiling reminds me
of concurrence. the little boy
across the street cries over the color
pink and I feel your sweater through my
sweater and I know the way to your
laugh and I can see your back and feel the way a miner feels
when he strikes gold. somewhere a mother
scratches her child's back
a bulb of garlic fruits a
man is betrayed
a receipt is unread in a wicker wastebin
and I am in your arms.