vineri, 7 iunie 2013


"you are an exit wound
the extra shot of tequila
the tangled knot of hair that has to be cut out
you are the cell phone ringing in a hushed theatre
pebble wedged in the sole of a boot
the bloody hangnail
you are, just this once
you are flip flops in a thunderstorm
the boy’s lost erection
a pen gone dry
you are my father’s nightmare
my mother’s mirage
you are a manic high
which is to say:
you are a bad idea
you are herpes despite the condom
you are, I know better
you are pieces of cork floating in the wine glass
you are the morning after
whose name I can’t remember
still in my bed
the hole in my rain boots
vibrator with no batteries
you are, shut up and kiss me
you are naked wearing socks
mascara bleeding down laughing cheeks
you are the wrong guy buying me a drink
you are the typo in an otherwise brilliant novel
sweetalk into unprotected sex
the married coworker
my stubbed toe
you are not new or uncommon
not brilliant or beautiful
you are a bad idea
rock star in the back seat of a taxi
burned popcorn
top shelf, at half price
you are everything I want
you are a poem I cannot write
a word I cannot translate
you are an exit wound
a name I cannot bring myself
to say aloud"

Jeanann Verlee, Exit Wound

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