Dark Honey Tongues

Snuck through a cracked window
Caught me off guard
Thought the lights were off in this house
but you navigate the pitch sure-footed
Eyes sharp enough to catch cracks in the foundation
Too kind to mention the fault lines, despite the acid of your tongue
You seem at home in this make shift mansion

Never knew playing tag in these empty rooms
could light me up this way
I am not often sated by another
but you are an unexpected drink at an unexpected table
and I was more thirsty than I knew

Watching myself carefully now
Afraid after you're gone I may leave the window open
Your edges are the kind of sharp I love to cut my tongue on
and laugh open-throated with blood in my mouth

More of me was born in the night than you know
Or maybe you do-
and that's why you delight in this uncovered sweetness
Our dark honey tongues dripping in smoke

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Confession (or A Ways from Caramel Apples)

I must confess, I used to be anorexic. I figured now would be a good time to just lay that out on the table. Being a hiccup away from 25 is bringing a lot of things to light. I've never shared this in such an open way, but today seems like a good day. Between the age of 13 and 14 I barely ate anything at all and exercised sometimes over 6 hours a day. Unfortunately, this unprecedented surge of "self control" and "dedication" was met with more praise than alarm. I am the perfect storm of components that make up a person who develops this disorder. Some of those components are dark and personal; I won't be sharing those here. However, I did want to talk about expanding. Ironic, eh? Someone who once dedicated herself so completely to disappearing now wants to discuss actually taking up space in the universe. Lately, I've been desperate to feel some growth- legitimately growing up, with all the attendant responsibilities and heartaches thereto. My poem Ra...
Read more

ChocolateSushiCouture- Photo shoot, Spring 2009

Image
I never thought that on a rainy spring day I would be in a studio in downtown Chicago with a cute little assistant shyly rubbing bronzer into my legs. He was so shy, in fact, that he couldn't continue up to my thighs. (A fact made obvious later when my skirt hiked up and the skin was pale enough to blind Helen Keller.) Nor did I think that I'd have an exuberant stylist (see below) with his hands up said skirt, and down my shirt as well. ("Don't worry honey, this means nothing to me.") Ah, it's a good life I discovered just a scant few months ago. My friend, plus-size model Teslyn Butler , who I met at a commercial shoot, recommended me to a local designer named Niehla Ollie who was in dire straights for a Caucasian, curvy model. After sending a few snapshots through email, Niehla agreed to use me for a small photo shoot. I was folded into an enthusiastic embrace in her apartment and immediately put into make-up while I learned the basic ins-and-outs of plus...
Read more

Phoenix Song

the story of the phoenix doesn't mean much when it's told over and over again but no one stops to plan it means you gotta die no roll of the dye you have to choose to die in order to live again we keep talking of ashes and flames but it's just games until someone grabs the torch and makes the choice to expeditiously expand their own demise in order to move beyond simply surviving the story of the phoenix is bloody and lonely the song of the phoenix is melancholy and wondrous but we speak so easily of such things as if putting your Self on the altar is no mean feat no force no remorse your choice your voice screeches higher as flesh and blood sizzle away in self made fire cracked tears and dried lips praying you weren't wrong praying you'll wake up on the other side on the inside when the song of the phoenix cries better say goodbye 'cause swim or burn sink or fly either way you're gonna die
Read more