Litkicks Message Board Archive

ceiling tiles

Posted to Action Poetry




that wind is cold
i feel it inside
congealing my blood
preserving my life
in hopes there is more
more that i offer
i’ll get on my knees
what more can i proffer?
putrefaction
gave birth to flies
i’ve seen that before
played out in your eyes
i’ve heard that before
a quote in my head
my answers are coming…
“What would it be like to be dead?”

i grovel and you grasp
together we fight
‘til your breath is my last
what would i have
if you weren’t holding on?
where would i be
if that face – suddenly – gone?
i’m tired of counting these tiles
24 to a row
upside down on this cold, steel bed
wincing while they sew
when your hair’s in my eyes
as you hover above
you think i’m unresponsive
but i feel your love
you squeeze my hand
and pray for the plighted
it’s endearing – you’ll try anything
to get my flatline excited.