What comes to light (4/18)

Don't you love
the way glass looks
when strange light shines through it?

I've always noticed odd refractions of light,
the way the shadow of a fountain dances & seethes.
Like my eyes are giggling
or experiencing some sort of hiccough.

Light is a funny thing.
Don't you wonder what its agenda is?
Why it follows the ethics of science
when deciding what to reveal...

Getting a late start on Napowrimo

4/2
I am a constant interruption,
Haltingly my body ride on the hoof beats of apology

If it's not right I'll let you talk over me
because someone once told me
about how oppressive my voice can be
and ever since
my lips flinching has become an intrusion.

I worry about what is expected
not like the old echo
you see
you say

Now I just don't know
when my moment is coming
like to only person at the bus stop
without earbuds & an iphone
I don't know when it is coming.

My body in an interruption
like a ship creaking across an alien sea,
my rib cage groans
& I let the conversation wash
salty & foreign
through the waxy cracks on either side of my skull.

Poised and indistinct,
the rules of conversation
laugh like wind chimes coughing up April
with too much enthusiasm,
as whatever personal anecdote curdles
& the awkward burbles on my belly.


4/1
I watched her
use her elbows as a metronome.

Talk

Networking
In conversation
those eyes were dancing like two sparrows on a chain link fence
open and round and swaying like an amber thicket beneath the moon
mouths moving in pink agreement
we ended like an unfinished sentence
or a greeting card whose punchline is waiting to be opened.

I think about your throat
and hope you don't notice the forwardness on my face.
beneath the shadows colliding like breezy lace
our tongues press down the angles of the sun,
is it night already?
I am thinking and you make me think about
how telephone poles must keep each other from being lonely
when they live in the desert.
So many lines pressing up and marking the belly of sky
like swooping bars of music

Ghost music whispered though the blades of a ceiling fan.
I can hear your voice from all the way across the country
summer heat boils into syllables and anxious talking over talking.
You're my favorite one to interrupt.