The Breathing Fog of May and the Insistence of Wednesday's Sun.

It's...

irrelevant

we're two stories, picture books rubbed raw and torn pages, he's

ripped

up the middle, down the lines of his face on the left and his right ear

dangles

over my toes when midnight falls, I watch him, inconspicuous, listen to my sleep.

I'm breathing, I'm attacked by May and I used to know lavender beneath the fog, I used to know dawn, I blanketed myself with scratches and wrote love letters to April when I missed the rain...

but now I write letters to him, hoping, somewhere, my handwriting can tattoo his skin.

He...

feels...

sometimes, I think it's love, that's what he's termed this undiluted destruction of me and it's a shame I didn't stain him, it's a shame my blood doesn't laugh at him from his palms, it's a

shame

I don't crawl over him like fleas at midnight, biting, itching and tearing him to shreds...

it's a shame I still make him smile.

I know the shape of Tuesday evening, she turns sideways beneath the moon, and my thighs become blue with memories and reflections but I leave the window open to confuse tomorrow

I crack the glass and pray I don't bleed, I...

slice through sunlight, I'm

tired

and he's sleeping, his eyes are always closed....

and I whisper to Wednesday to steal his eyelashes, I cry to April to blow them to me and I promised, I promised Thursday I'd make these wishes....

but I don't know

how to collect.

He's ineffectual as long as I'm cold, he's problematic and I sweat, swatting at headlights and curling under blankets, I'm trying to fool myself but

my eyes don't close...

and I've spit on last January, indignant in her youth, she'll never hear the screaming pain of forgiveness...

and my mouth

won't

close, my teeth won't crash and creek and grind him down...

not this close to May, anyway, not this close to

Wednesday.

Reviews

[Adam Whitworth]

yes, you've got your frisbee spinning well there, and it's coming closer

[Justin]

You have so many good metaphors. I wish could write poetry like this. 120 out of 100

[Jeanmarie Flaherty]

Thank you so very much :)

[Richard]

besides this being obviously a bit sullen, there's a lot of magic and some great metaphors and non-sequiturs floating around here and I really liked it a lot

[Echoes of Eros]

Every fragment of thought is so intricately woven into this melancholy perfection. It's a delicacy like no other. xo

[Ibreez Shabkhez]

The poem has a nice name.

[An owl on the moon]

I still remember reading the shards of your novel... how I could see then the very profound uniqueness of your voice... brilliant and beautifully bittersweet...

[Jeanmarie Flaherty]

What a beautiful review Craig Froman :) thank you :)

[An owl on the moon]

You are amazing, Jeanmarie... don't forget it! :)

[Ronn Michael Salinas]

Trippy

[Dream Weaver]

I enjoyed this tremendously, a wonderfully collective
mass of days and months projecting a saddening
storyline...

[Wondering Mind]

This is written in a very interesting, and unique style!!

[Kaylor Mason]

Cool. I like how you talk of the seasons as living spirits--that's really special.