Monday, November 29, 2010

I know it's hard to believe
but I had a lover at fourteen
we slept on deserted beaches
used large stones instead of pillows
made blankets out of willows and reeds
weaved love into our sentences
and spoke only of poetry.

At eleven I broke both my father's legs
see he fell out of the big old maple tree-
and I was holding the ladder.
He was putting up a swing for me
but now strangers rake those leaves
and we never got around to finishing the swing
we were too busy screaming
see he has metal holding together
the large faults in his bones
so now his head is always ringing.

At three I ran away from home
hoping to join a travelling circus-
I was going to be the fortune teller.
Instead I learned how to climb out of
windows
and I've still never seen a trapeze
but I can float past light sleepers
like a soft breeze, only the trees hear me wheezing.

But see, I forgot how to draw pictures people could see.
I know shadows and I can disguise myself easily
but it's been awhile since I've written a love poem,
so long I've forgotten how to start them,
because I've been fixating on my
broken heart
there is no metal holding me together
but my head rings everyday.
I'd like to think my past doesn't own me
there is no loan that could drown me
so I'm asking you to help me remember
how to write a love poem.
I want to know you and your lips
help me remember how to write about the
shape of your nose,
oh beautiful bending elbows and curled toes
rosy cheeks in the falling snow
so show me how to write a love poem,
because my heart isn't used to seeing itself on paper anymore.

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