TheCourtRose

On Friday there was a man named Friday I sat in his lap and kissed his mouth 3 days later and counting and not a drop to drink Meeting Friday on Friday turned my world upside down and all the mead fell out I wonder if Odin will let me keep writing poetry without his drink in hand I worry so, for myself Wonder if I had not met a man named Friday on Friday, if I ever would have stopped blurred tripping feet stand still Stop Despite my misgivings, it was a good kiss From what I can remember Which isn't much Which is the problem, after all

The center cannot hold, (or so they said) An acute understanding why, now Roiling guts, a vacant heart Nothing good comes from a liquid filled center But when you finally tip over, there is nothing left

Belly White, dipped expanse Laying flat on my back, watching a lowered curve with every inhale Ribs, hip bones, mountains to this valley An unexpected lily-pale softness Not hard, nor unforgiving Silvery striped and waiting A caverned belly button, built for tongue and smile, proffered jewels An unexpected lily-pale softness- an unexpected love Toes   Paint by number crayola parts Stubby,  stubborn 10 Little Piggies disappearing one by one Calloused, not at all fond of socks or shoes Curl carpet deep with a full good kiss Plant me firm when love sways my back With your faces painted red to face the world Lips Swollen again Always crooked slightly to one side Tight tipped peaking points and want to pierce the Medusa, walk around top heavy with white gold Learned a great way to kiss in Brazil (Slide your tongue behind their top lip, against the gum) Remembering makes my lips ache and swell again Made for kissing, absolutely Not enough to...

Apple picking tuckered out The lull of a quiet warm back seat Drifting Away The gravel road beneath the tires- sounds of childhood countryside Backwoods Texas, dried snail shells and oil rigs in the distance Southwest driveways and scratching hayrides Whickering horses, the squeak of too new saddles Sounds, smells that cannot be found between concrete and glass A car can only hold so much Ears are brimful with memory, holding so much life built in vast open spaces Calloused feet now softened by boots Shock in a handful of stars now outweighs the old acceptance of a night filled sky Teenage years wound about like wanderin' vines, still searching for purchase in the earth Don't mind now an adult exhausted from winning a corn maze race and sleepy in the car with a quiet smile A little thing grown up country wild was bound to make for an interesting adult