2 0 2

~Those Words~

It's in the marrow of your bones

when those words reverberate differently

rattling around inside of you

than they did when floating

like pixie dust in the endless sky

It's not possible to hear their echo

as minute specks barely visible

And it's our lives not theirs

to do what we need to do

For our thirst needs satisfying

just as much as our hands need

to caress the edges of where 

only we have touched 

tenderly, firmly, insistently


Let me remind you 

the petals of the flowers 

you bought me last week

are starting to fall upon

the oak table in the kitchen

marking the passage of time

We cannot count on

certainties when we both know

nothing is certain at all

So let me hear my name

on your tongue and

let me feel your arms enclose me

and let us surrender completely

as those words fall around us



0 0 0

We are the poem 

that never started.

Our meters died

long before the words were uttered.


We are the once upon a time

to a fairytale that too soon died.

Our story never came to be,

we started at goodbye.

We are a sad song.

A requiem of sorts.

A melody of heartache.

A ballad of empty notes.

0 0 0

On watching someone you love, love only your body

It will be last call when his name

appears on your phone. Your fingertips

hesitate to answer, go into the bathroom

tell him to meet at your place in half an hour.

When your friends ask who you were talking to

lie to easily, say it was your roommate

go back to your beer; fade invisible.

Slip out the front door to meet your lover.

You will run home, trying as much as possible

to sober your drunken veins just to remember

how his stubble feels against your cheek.


When you open the door, he will be standing,

one hand in his pocket, the other on the door frame,

you can tell he has taken one too many shots of tequila

this is the only reason he called. He will smile,

you try not to melt like a G.I. Joe under

the magnifying glass. He does not speak,

he moves effortlessly into your home;

you have forgotten his force, every pulse

is telling you to push him away, to run.

You told yourself last time was the last time

he would control you. He presses his lips

against yours, his hand glides down your spine.

You are surprised at how weak he makes you.


He will lead you into the bedroom,

removing your clothing without strength.

You let him take you because you want him to

you know this is the closest you will ever be.

He will lick his way down your stomach.

Do not mistake this for passion.

Remind yourself this is only fun.

Your sweat mixes with his, heat rising

from his body. You can feel his heart

beat in his fingertips.  It is fast and loud,

for a moment you think he could love you.


When he ejaculates on your stomach

he will hand you a towel. Clean yourself

off with deliberate force. When you slide

your shirt back on, do not look him in the eye.

Do no ask him to stay holding you until morning.

Do not tell him he is the condom you wear

on blind dates protection from letting

anyone else touch you. Do not tell him

you stay up late at night creating worlds

where the two of you build a beautiful home.


He will leave your apartment as easily

as he entered, without a goodbye kiss.

You are the fiddle he uses to escape

his broken life. Go back to your bed.

Hold the pillow holding his cologne.

Wrap your hands around his scent.

Press the fabric close to your face.

Fall asleep to the smell of him.


In the morning do not regret what you did,

retell yourself how you could have stopped it

because you could have stopped it, because

you could have stopped it. Wash the smell

of him away in the shower, block his number


5 0 5

strings pulling human beings
like puppets, 
dreams falling through
the holes in life’s worn pockets,
looking for change between 
couch cushions and in mirrors,
worth is measured by memories,
thoughts are spreading throughout 
my body like a deadly disease,
I’m building a city with the debris
of past years
and living there on the streets,
being kept company
by familiar ghosts,
I go to sleep counting fears,
my heart dropped to my feet
making it impossible to run
away from these feelings,
disgust underneath my fingernails 
and dust in my ears,
everything I touch turns to trash,
I can’t hear through
this storm of dishonest ash,
words are stuck in my throat,
planted with steel roots,
and I’m looping these sentences
into a silencing noose.

1 0 1


When she rushes
Into you
Like a crashing wave
Like a gust of wind
Like a summer's day breeze
Like a happy pup,
This is her love
Washing over you
Drowning you
Embracing you
Adoring you,
Her arms
Her smile
Her laughter
Her joy
Of her heart
Her mind blinded
At the sight of you,
All for you
Whether friend
Or lover,
Don't ever;
Never ever let go...
APAD13 - 083 © okpoet

0 0 0

Tick Tock

tick tock

the clock

frets &


butterfly heart 


tap tap

the feet

the heart


& hours


drip drop

her tears

fall on 

pale cheeks

thump thump

and then a silent

yellow moon

she floats

among the river's reeds

waiting no more.


0 0 0

If you could treat diseases with beautiful smiles, she would have cured the world.


Her blue eyes were not made of ice cold ocean depths but morning skies in autumn.


She’s a daphne in a field of roses; she could give you a berry kiss. It'll kill you.


And if perfection wasn't rooted in opinion, she’d be the right answer.

2 0 2

Counting Toes


It is lonely

being a baby

in a stroller

on the side of the road

counting  toes

while mama and daddy

hoe the garden rows

for hours on end;

It was our livelihood.


Oh, the scare

When mama hollers


Gunshot reverberates,

And daddy says,

“That’s a dead copperhead.”

And no one hears

My silent tears

Or wipes my nose

to calm my fears.

It is lonely

Being a baby

In a stroller

On the side of the road.


0 0 0

Some days the sun is a swollen

head in the sky, watching as we walk the

block in circles, tracing the line between 

green grass and white cement, frying 

us like leftovers in a pan, charred and

bound for waste.

My eyes are half lit, glazed with the maple

syrup honey light of a dying sun in a dying

world living a dying life. My hair is damp

and the chlorine has my skin spongy and

when we climb into the car we end up

driving in circles on the same streets all

night long. 

You pointed at the moon as it emerged, 

a graceful dancer, a ballerina in the symphony

of stars in the sky, ripe and yellow. The sunset

had striped the sky pink and purple over the

ocean, and the night was television fuzzy bruising

the day until it was black and blue and aching

with the new winds and the cooler air, the spell

fading away. 

It matters how we hold hands and how we touch

feverish lips in the backseat of my mother’s car 

and how high in the sky the sun was when you

first said I love you and the shirt I wore on our

first date might smell like you even though that was 

the latest part of autumn and this is fresh summer,

raw and glowing and pulsing. Our hearts are tiny

mechanical rabbits pitter-patter-pitter-pattering beneath

the bumpy jump of skin and bone and they are the

strongest part of our body and that is why we follow

them despite their silly rabbit feet. They are stronger

than the sun and more modest than the moon.

Summer fell like lead and tasted like sun-warmed wine

and felt like straw grass and rolled and rocked us safe

to sleep beneath striped sunsets. Summer was our

sidewalk and our street and our car crash. I told you I

would love you forever, once.

3 0 3


I can smell the spilled ink
the letter you gave me, 
and it’s as acrid as the 
words of your bitterest