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11 Poems (standard:poetry, 0 words)
Author: AJAdded: May 31 2001Views/Reads: 2088/1263Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
11 short poems
 



Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

I Need One More Person To Make A Monopoly 

When I wake up without covers and cold And my blankets are bunched up by
my toes And all the empty air rests on my unprotected self I sometimes 
feel like I am Park Place And someone in some coverless bed somewhere 
is Boardwalk And I wish I could find them So we could sleep in our 
hotel Where the blankets stay on tight and the air is balmy Because 
when I get up and remake my bed I always wake up tired. 

Snow-Eater 

Living at mountain-top Curled inside a puddle Of melted snow Warm as a
womb The view who Kicks me in the stomach Also fills my mouth with 
flannel While I binge On snow like a fistful of summer's first ice 
cream And snowboard to the music Of chair lifts not yet running The 
electricity of hiking With chunks of slush Who slither slowly sliding 
Down my skin to swim In my sweat in the small of my back And then to be 
an inch From the sky And eyes bruised blinded by blue You shift And I 
stretch And salt in my lashes When I know I have been Sacred When I 
finally swell And there is nothing Less beautiful Than your Daddy as a 
baby And I drop into the mirror white And hold the sky in my lungs And 
I smile So shiny at my sister In blue that tastes like The frosting on 
my life 

Nobody Has Ever 

When it hurts to talk to anyone Because they're not you I bring out your
face And nobody has ever Seen this painting except You and I Nobody has 
ever Touched that spot under Your earlobe You assure me I wish your 
canvas Would come alive And reassure me. 

When in Doubt, Choose E 

His hand quivered for an eternity Resting gently on the number 8 Then,
with an astonishing burst of energy He pushed and heaved himself To the 
next number and .Lingered. His pale round face looked down on the girl 
Who studied his features for a sign, A miniscule movement. Her 
bloodshot eyes strayed To an answerless page. Filling in each unhelpful 
oval Was like squeezing water out of a stone sponge Each pencil mark 
Was like writing with A Number Two tree trunk Searching the page, she 
finally saw A question Or A choice She could answer A question of 
escape The answer was so easy Joe Bloggs would have got it right Black 
out the oval Which reads Stand up and leave now Before you waste your 
youth Waiting for that hand to budge. 


   


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