shipwrecked

 

April 2, 2005
I forget your faces, the way you stood that Saturday
night in the rushing dark, fingers
digging into the underside of my arm,

the blank-faced waitress,

you on the left,
you on the right,

you leading

the chorus of footsteps,
I remember

your shadows on the wall,
voiceless

your damp hand on the back of my neck,
my ankle, my

                                      sliding,
the taunt of freedom,
of escape

the heaviness of body

my left knee exploding against the sidewalk

on a street whose
name I have forgotten

I could take you there
with my eyes closed


June 9, 2007
it is so crowded in here, with you
I know I am in danger

faceless voices,
circling

I hear you waiting


November 15, 2008
this is true:

poetry is whispering and
I don't want to see you anymore

lying to yourself is an art
of knowing what you
don't know

and I will never be
that ready