All posts for the month May, 2013

and in the spring she becomes a giant lung

Published May 6, 2013 by pipsqueak

expanding with a gasp, gulping in the fresh air
she unfolded herself and allowed herself to breathe
she is aerated, the yellow sunlight glowing through
her skin, illuminating that soft shadow of her bones
and the trails the mice gnawed through her
during the stiffling winter, when she was packed away
in moldering cardboard boxes in a musty basement
but now her thread-veins, which doodle through her flesh
like the roots of slender-stemmed violets.
they pump as lively quick as a baby bird heart.


some suggestions for the non-native speaker of my language

Published May 2, 2013 by pipsqueak

hello. i am not at the phone right now!

here are some options for leaving me a message:

cover my entire body in crackle nail polish so i have a thin, stylish shell

kiss me 3-8 times on the lips, and then once on the top of my head

drizzle brine onto my cheeks so i can pretend i was having a torrential weeping session

present to me an innocent handful of cake

swipe a new scar onto my gooseflesh

gallop down the streets at 3 in the morning with me on ever-restless legs