Monday, February 15, 2016

4 a.m. it slithers OCPoetry

4 a.m. it slithers

  4 a.m. it slithers

        in uninvited.

              like a recalcitrant room-

  mate   throws all my shit

        on the floor

              and refuses to tidy up

  the mess    where did - how did

        You even find this

              memory of twelve

  dirt bike paths beside the

        creek-bed  his Bowie knife

              gleaming in the green summer

  glare    glinting, grinning, predatory joy

        of purpose, of promise

              hardscrabble of gravel on

  my spine    taste of copper

        dripping from rosebud lips

              sweet saccharine scent

  of honeysuckle crushed in my fist

        i hid this one care-

              fully, tucked in the space

  behind the refrigerator    how dare you

        this one, nine

              the yellow dress torn

  in two places    i pretended

        not to notice.  i remember

              specifically placing this

  out of reach    in a box deep

        on a shelf  behind the Christmas

          lights    And dead-eyed

  plastic reindeer    i fail to see the relevance-

          five with white

  Sakura blossoms          In my hair and

      i was so pretty

            until I wasn't

  oh god oh

        don't make me not again

              You brute you mindless

  brute          you monster

  

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More Poetry from Lana:

Also Known As

Excerpts From A Voicemail

On Mortality, December 1980

Chambers Street

On Regret

The Man of Châlons

Beast

Silence Is.

The Day I Caught The Sun

Nearly Zero



Submitted February 15, 2016 at 10:34PM by ActualNameIsLana http://ift.tt/1Kle6q8 OCPoetry

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