Wandering Blues

moonlight floods the lake until it licks the banks,
tongues it open fierce and full-mouthed.
black birds lower their wings to angle
their landing. in the half-lit night,
death’s marshy meadows open

their palms. i want to watch you drown
but no one actually waves their hands
when they’re going under. i might miss
your face among the cattailed reeds,
the way your mouth ohs open in small

sighs. your body is heavy. it weighs
my steps through the swollen sand.
every time i unfold the map, the scale
slides another inch of miles. i remember
my home as a shell, divested of pearl.




Image taken with iPhone on the train.
Words written at the hotel while watching 30 Rock.
Time Taken 10 minutes.
Brain on snow, water, food and travel.

This entry was published on March 21, 2012 at 11:08 pm and is filed under March, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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