blue boy

i never went into the head-clouds with you,
for you are the bones of the boy you were
yours is a clock's face skipping time, with loose hands

soon, you will be food for the birds,
in your last hours, you will be a blue boy once again,
reading books in the woods,littering the way with bits of papers

your first poem is tucked between walls,
that holds your last breath entwined with your first kiss,
the first time you made love with books

was the only time you really thought about love,
now you crouch on the bed-corner,
encased in brittle skin, trying to catch

the scent of your lovers, and the words
they said to you shine like tears in your eyes,
you've been in love, you've been loved in return

i will keep the nightstand on for the next forty days,
i will leave the doors and windows open,
i will look for you everywhere

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

damn this is good..and reminds me much of Emily Dickinson whose lovers were mostly other writers with which she had infatuations, but the love was in books, in poems...

and many of us express love in our written words, sometimes shying away from the physical, mental and emotional contact face to face...safer that way.

i really like the ending...if you ever decide to love outside the books...i will be there.

neat.

[highonwords]

thank you, jacob, for the insightful review - and most of all for reading

steph