Poetry

A Rain for Anne

In Poetry on September 27, 2012 at 4:53 pm

yesterday you slept the cold out because of the grease in
the pan the wrinkle that the combing water could not wash

you want to touch the word
that describes you
the wallpaper to wrap the stigma
of not-being-you
but this word does not breath
nor care if you blow life
into it

today you have the effort to cook and salt the rain
it really isn’t as bad as lighting your hair on fire

what you are dying to see
is your transformation
into a burrowing vermin
and like a paste on a skin
this asbestos
seeps
through purple pores

tomorrow when your forehead shines I will buy soap
and let the sun scrub the bottom where the soot gathers.

***

When asked what his embarassing moment was, Jay Coral once said he butchered the English language a lot. He still does. Feel free to read them at http://bluejayeye.blogspot.com/

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