You undress my echoes

Membrane by maleficence.

A trial that does not subside

Even in proclamation of verdict.

My soul is angry

With yolk and tasteless margins,

Flaccid lungs without

A breath to pinch.

I scramble eggs to accommodate

A subversive palate

The alien yellow,

The deconstructed form,

The subdued fertility

Of our opposing variables.

I bring the rain,

A provincial mantra,

A stick that both

Strikes and steadies,

A test of aggregate wills.

I fill your mug with silence,

Thin-lipped songs

So shrill as to be subliminal.

Your high-arched foot peeps

From beneath its swaddling.

The cold of bones

Blown through with shivs.

Winter rests vacantly

On a singular course.

Do you love me more

When your stomach swells?

I chase you through November

The home-sick ghost

Inescapable at twilight

But absent by dawn.

I draw hearts around

Our convalescing names.

However, gracious

The prison it will not hold.

I love your thinness,

The blade-like quality

Of your passages

As you exit my entrances.

I can only detain

The inevitables’ so long

Before the cicatrix dries

And I must sever again.

15 thoughts on “Wordle #149

  1. Cicatrix is a such a cool word. I had to look that one up. This one feels a bit like hide and seek – a passing through, even if more is wanted.

  2. I love your thinness, / The blade-like quality / Of your passages / As you exit my entrances.

    There are some incredibly evocative and provocative images in this piece – really depth-ridden with frustration, anger and yet, almost a longing for more of the same.

    Such an amazing use of words – some rather “odd” – but so well constructed here – great job Yves 🙂

  3. “You undress my echoes” is a powerful line–wherever you’d choose to place it in the work. And on 2nd read, I LOVE “I fill your mug with silence”–wow, I’ve been there (both giving and receiving end).

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