The Sound of Things (original poem)

The Sound of Things

 

I.

It’s the way you sing body

that I know to me you are not a cadaver

on a cold metal table.

You are in the backseat with me

& we are a movie,

or more likely, we

are squished on a twin sized mattress

& body is you and me, vulnerable,

& body is always synonymous

with yes & always & more

 

II.

Whisper sepulcher into my ear

late at night while curled in bed.

Let it be a wish that we die here,

old age & wrinkled skin.

My tongue & lips

will run over the syllables, the shape,

ask you to say it over and over

like a prayer, like the longest kiss:

sepulcher sepulcher sepulcher

 

III.

Brevity is the truth of us.

We lasted longer in the fiction

of my memory. There wasn’t a goodbye,

just you pushing me out the door.

Brevity is my song, the chorus I shout back to you,

because the shortest moments can last the longest.

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