Archive for April, 2014

Out of the Box

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on April 22, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Like a brand-new dinette set,

we come out of the box unmarred,

unmarried and unscarred,

but over years we become stained

and scathing, burned by irons and

cigarettes and a long line of exes,

grow poorer by the day as we write

a long line of checks, try to balance

wobbling chairs and plans for

something better against the gift

of breaking down today.

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Spring (Zombie)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on April 21, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Spring

which sprung like a green lily or

a zombie, popping up out of the earth,

through the mud and the wreckage to

take nourishment: photo-synthetic.

 

White Thighs

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on April 18, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Look down at my leg as I write,

so white, so bruised, so capillaried.

My thighs tell the story of ill-fitting shorts,

bad photographs, insecurities,

ownership, a vice-like grip,

you: one among many,

my selectively promiscuous ways.

A warm home for kittens, a way

to hold others’ kids, while I wait;

always waiting, for my own cats

or progeny, my own blood-vessels to be

worth something more than bruising and

keeping my own breath alive.

 

Sway

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on April 18, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

We would writhe together,

write together, slowly,

we would smile together,

and sway and get closer.

 

We can’t do anything together.

We won’t write and I won’t help you.

I keep expecting your words to arrive

but I know you want to be far away from me.

 

We aren’t anything anymore,

We only moved one speed, fast,

and I cried here all alone,

swaying in my bed, staring at nothing.

Fortuned Perfection

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on April 18, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

I hope your night with her

helped you find that fortuned

perfection. I’ve thrown away

the slip of paper now, but too many

are still left to burn.

Magic 8-Ball

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on April 18, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Stuck behind the magic 8-ball,

my results read “try again later,”

but instead, I let the cue fall,

because the game was over.

Ill

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on April 16, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

I’ve got frogs’ legs pumping their way

out of my throat, and feel like truck-bait,

a sitting duck on the road, ready to be hit.

I’m neighing and whinnying because I can’t

seem to get past being a sinker,

hanging on the end of your transparent

fly-line, and now it’s called off, the curled cord

around my neck is last of my hang-ups.

 

I’ve got a fever and the only prescription

is for you to stay the fuck away from me.