The Terror of the Capillaries

I.

 

I WANT TO FEAST: my own nest of capillaries

eat them up and smile MY BLOODY GRIN

and I swear it fits on YOUR LIPS

For nothing beats harder than A HEART in hindsight,

in thought of how things used to be

This TERROR OF THE CAPILLARIES

Caught you in my throat

HELD CLOSE to my spine

Once you’re shot

You’re done

You can’t stop

Bleeding out

And if you live

You can’t remove

The scar

Any more than you could put the BULLET BACK

In the barrel, and forget you ever saw her

 

II.

 

The politeness of words GONE SOUR,

A feigned GESTURE, and the image of him

Across the room looms large, a room

DARK and swamped by GIRLS who have

Come before; he can’t PULL BACK from

THE SHAPE of things—the Bending place—

Where innocent BOYS become broken-men

THINGS that decorate bars, floors and

CANALS, screaming for justice, LOVE

And retribution—to please, for the

Love of EVERYTHING, find them there

SOON.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s