for cliffey

in the cellar
of the disco room
you tried to rescue me
from the dark police
who hustled me into a corridor
and shone lights in my eyes.
searched my pockets
for a wallet
of a boy who likes to lie.
they let me go,
and you spun me around
like a lover in a film.
but in the morning i discovered my fingernails
were bitten to the quick.
red and raw around the cuticles.
i must have been nervous
about
a guarantee.
and just when i thought
that i'd had enough
you kissed me.
and kissed me.
dancefloor,
stairs,
street,
bench,
railings,
porch,
garden wall.
hands,
lips,
teeth,
neck
and cheek.
in the morning
you ignored me,
like the rest.
sang love songs
to the crowd
as the red-haired girl
hung on your arm
and whispered secrets
in your ear that i kissed.
and i tore my legs and arms to ribbons
ran in the rain
down the street where we kissed
shied at the rubbish
that moved and hissed
in the streetlights.
you that night
is the you i now miss.
don't bruise my heart, boy.
i won't cope if you let me go.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

As a general rule, single-word lines make me wince--but here is a virtual primer on when and how to use them. This is exceptionally visual--as cinematic (for lack of a better word) as anything you've written. It's emotionally charged--and, again, the short lines give the piece (in my view, anyway) a slightly manic feel--but the emotion isn't overwhelming or over the top. This piece is a wonderful partnership of true confession and craftsmanship.

[Ed Hart]

now that I've read this, I feel like I'm supposed to do something...