All posts tagged spring

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.


vers de printemps

Published April 6, 2013 by pipsqueak

today i snuck away from the formation
shucking off my regimental blues
my gold epaulets are askew
and the tongue lolls in my black boots
but i am radiant in the drunken morning

i capper through spring mist
whistling birdsong with my scratchy voice
i run my hands through the greenery
ripping out lush handfuls of leaves
twisting the flower stems until
they fray and tumble into my hands

i bruise the petals
with the pads of my fingertips