The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 7/10/09

[BlueIris]

"Remembering"

I am the perfect catalogue,
alone in this poem
with the pieces of my body.
Can I sing myself whole?
Sing past my thighs, my breasts,
my lips, past spices, flowers,
brands of beer, past the music
of parts, of dismembering.
I roll these words
on the litmus strip of my tongue

I remember the girl asleep in class,
and out of wanting,
reaching to touch her, feel the slow ride
of her breath, and pulling back, out of fear.
I remember holding a woman's hand
on the highway, a truck so close
I could've written my name in the hood's dust,
the flash of the man's eyes
through the glass.

Lesbian, the word tastes like my own tongue,
alive, not meat.
In the one dream where I kissed her,
mouth tasting like mine,
I woke to my own voice
singing.

~Margaret Almon

[Tuesday Afternoon]

1. ~

:donut: :hi:

[BlueIris]

2. Hey, Tuesday. nt

[BlueIris]

3. Kick.