Drowned in warm water
plump flesh, and supple
Did you know it would be this way?
That we just wouldn’t die?
This is me, shoving tectonic plates in places they don’t belong:
I make the earth quake
I throw mountains out of nothing.
This is the way I justify my geological mayhem.
Art is always illusion.
It snows all spring.
What, then, is satisfy?
Your dialogue gets me dizzy.
You can’t move away from the cold once it curls inside you.
You freeze- bones first, flesh later.
You grope toward heat.
What, then, is satisfy to the mouth of a corpse?
We choke on dirt.
We tell lies. We need heat.
We draw water to the bath.
plump flesh, and supple
Did you know it would be this way?
That we just wouldn’t die?
This is me, shoving tectonic plates in places they don’t belong:
I make the earth quake
I throw mountains out of nothing.
This is the way I justify my geological mayhem.
Art is always illusion.
It snows all spring.
What, then, is satisfy?
Your dialogue gets me dizzy.
You can’t move away from the cold once it curls inside you.
You freeze- bones first, flesh later.
You grope toward heat.
What, then, is satisfy to the mouth of a corpse?
We choke on dirt.
We tell lies. We need heat.
We draw water to the bath.
11.2.17
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