04 March 2016

clay feet

the roof i live under is made of sheets
of metal slick sharp slippery
that sings in the heat and
cries in rain

i memorized the lines of your face, instead of
dreaming of you
i draw you in crayons
and markers:
the watercolors bead on the wax
and i picture your teardrops
rinsing past my eyes and lips
gently on yours
graceful transcendent cheeks

drank all i could, to follow you,
just or ill-advised
trough-full of unwarranted {i say unwanted} pleas
that i leave
on your doorstep
and i wait
to hear nothing but the soft rain ring
on my sheer metal roof