summer is coming.
i can feel the soft ache of maturation,
when time ripens, splitting open
the sides of my lungs as i stretch
my spine back into the green of the earth,
spread my arms out and hook my fingers
beneath the edge of this moment,
breathing shallow, my eyes closed
as i swallow softly in an attempt
to retain my balance.
summer is coming.
and i will dance at her wedding,
plough her fields, kill
her babies and muck the stalls of her farm,
working on my hands and knees
until the ache in my bones fades
to an unnoticible level of pain
as the chill of the night and empty money
begin their slow invasion and start
their colonization of the expansive vision
of my future.
summer is coming,
the span of her heart counted
upon the weight of my wishes,
until i can stand her no longer,
my knuckles bloody with bleach,
my skin pale beneath the lines of my clothes
that are stained with paint,
and i no longer attempt to cry
when i feel her nails along my spine
and hear the crunch of when she removes bone.
summer is coming.
and i'll bleed my way empty into fall,
the nights stretching open
along the edge of my wounds,
the corners of the bills i've earned slowly
curling upwards on the vine,
my body now broken, my mind empty
and waiting for another year of planting
fresh ideas in the garden of academics.
I really like this one, but before I say why I'd like to point out that in the second stanza, in the third row you have 'weight' spelled as 'weght'. Now I'm unsure if this was unintentionally or not so please forgive me if it was on purpose. Ok, now I like this because I can relate to what you're saying. All summer we break our bodies to save up enough money for school in the fall and it sucks, but you described it so beautifully and violently. Coodos to you my dear, well done.
ReplyDeletethat was an error. generally if it looks like a typo in my poetry then it is. thanks for catching it.
Deletealso hooray for education :P