billyfivecrows

(stellar)


He lived about the thigh and
The gaze of whorled wood,
The cabinets full of bottles

Colored with a captivation
Less like thought, and more
Like an ignorance of color,

The caps rusting, something
Crawling in the ceiling, the
Wind. He pulled the smooth

Flesh up between his fingers
She "ouched" and laughter
Made her pretend her anger

Was real. There were nine

Boats in two lakes
In the picture suspended
In place of their door.

"Who are they for?"

She asked,deciding
To float a little. He

Pooled his receding mane
To the back of his neck

And denied he hadn't heard her.

"I suppose. Yes, I do."

She swallowed a questionmark

And clamped him closer.



Before my name gets complicated.
Before my game is a tool unlearned.

Sharp corners laugh at dull corners.
Fried jewels froth their own mouths.



It's an
Ugly
Truth
That

Quickening is
A weapon
Toward

The impatient. Running

Faster than
The mastery

Of a lasting
Day

Brings more

Day, and

Something tired

In the sun...