When we played in traffic

Altogether too carelessly

we were playing in the traffic

of each other’s smiles. Only yesterday

our gallivanting answered to a short knife

when crows ripped the love from our eyes.

We recall our injustices, pull funny new faces, 

and play on.

In overcrowded rooms we dance with red ribbons

twirling our arms like we remember how.

Only the audience and the species of 

stomach butterfly have changed. In truth, 

the memory of your lips is a dream I dissected

way back when the world was ripe for science,

and each truth left in the sun dried to twelve decimals.

But the oldest stone melts down to balsa wood, and your smile

drifts off from the pins, from the sterile lab tray, from where

the seatbelts are stored. Everything is empty space & microscopy

so lets catch a checker cab out to yellow grass

and both be lonely loudly, then gather up our bodies and tapdance

into the space between us 

like dying stars. 

From our bottomless well only light will escape.

There will be the smell of atoms scalding and

the sound will be jazz of moving clouds.

Reviews

[JetMardium]

wow, just wow. the imagery was great. the wording was inviting, enticing, well versed and just honestly one of the better freeverse poems i have read in a while. good job

Only the audience and the species of
stomach butterfly have changed

'that line though, i love that