Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Collisions at bedside

Twist this metal frame around;
if this is the closest I come
to being held,
at least let time slow let
physics twirl
as they may.
Implode glass;
if this is a story about stars,
let sunlight twinkle, twinkle,
across the shards,
and let your voice
be a soft narrative arcing wind.
Life driving toward some kind of
any kind of
contact, violent
My favorite part is when our hands touch
and as I drift away you ask,
What would you like me to read tonight?