Monday, May 2, 2016

laugh lines

a dramatic 
grab-to-heart, miming gunshot wound in the kitchen
when she exits her bedroom for me 
the first time, be still!    my heart.
back when
i tasted like cigarettes and zip-up sweatshirts. she used to cry over the newspaper, a love so big it  trickled down the back of your hand 
like ripe fruit.

my laugh lines more shadow than joy now. 
my penance overflowing the bathroom sink, i shove
the bathmat under the crack to keep from spilling 
everywhere, i don't want to ruin your shoes again, in the dreams,
she places my wet hands on her hips like
teaching me how to ride a bike, you never forget. 

traces the laugh lines around my mouth, 
i want to touch her's, answer
    "yes, my darling, they are beautiful,
           we made these,
           we made these."

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