Wordle #140


No one exits this love intact,

A means that pulverizes

All that would follow.

I am undone in the skeins

Of your bellicose poems

Still I attend, flying

With the force of eternity.

The shuttle came late

Another level of hell

Sought and overtaken,

Another star shaved down

To a less consequential flesh.

I roll your heart under my palm

Just enough heat to instigate.

A spider’s eyes, cinnamon spun

Spill from every echo

What could be more clear

Than a fool’s devotion?

I have only time for you,

To listen, to melt, to stutter

With the force of your attritional lips.

I paint my wrists with your initials,

My eyelids with your silhouette

The pith of your mischievous smile,

The mercy of my teeth as they trip

Over these catgut margins

Possession makes no difference

When together we are blessed.


Lately I have been struggling with writing, not for lack of desire but just old-fashioned stress. When I get too stressed and  have a lot to do I often experience some emotional blockages. This has nothing to do with the poem I am just saying how I am feeling at the moment.