walk backwards
without looking
at the mess
dinner’s cooking
where we left it
stirred and wet
it bubbles
circular swings
in buttered
muscle memory
where we drowned
any semblance
of respect

terra firma
speaks too kindly
of your stomping
feet and splashing
of crimson
from whence
we were all
the same

you’re right to
blush my bride
my crush
these vague
veiled whelps
cloud my mind
i’m soaked
through with
drowned and
risen again
as an anointed
of course



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s