Blogging & Poems, My Poems

Of Trenches and Stones

This poem needs some serious work —

Of Trenches and Stones

Believing him is the easy part

when love begins to taste
like blood
and water.

Metaphor-

ically: she wastes away on a cloud
of opium and
small metallic wings.

You can taste
the flour
in the bread –

smell the pecans
where there are only
fish

(the eyes
wasting
in the garbage)

and you wonder what it would be like

to have been
a woman
like her

with marks on her skin
that are natural,
that smell of

chlorine
in her hair.
You

are wasting away
on a cloud
of elixir

and diamonds

and yet you love him anyway –

far off in a barn
that floats on the ocean
of a desert plain.

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