countdown
the tick of her spine
drives me forward
like waiting and watching
she schedules my next move
I run my clock on hers
her impeccable beat
like pounding drums and hissing snares
or calendars on Roman time
syncing circadian rhythm with mine
Page Break
catch, release, repeat
tell me about your bloodlust
hungry for the devil’s touch
to feel the wolf rip into flesh
and skin and bone
like bread
and to feel your mind fall to dust
like it like red between your teeth
cruel cold God,
I like your tongues and nails and arteries
I like the chase that makes my heart beat
I like the catch and the release
catch, hold, bite, eat, tease, leave, release
and repeat
east of June
in the north, the sun grins most afternoons
but the air still has a bite to it
I wash dishes in the six o’clock window so I can feel the warmth coming in from the west
it washes over the city and then comes out in waves to us.
the year’s nearing its end so no one thinks too clearly
instead we spit barbs through tight teeth
and turn our fingers upwards and across the room when mistakes are made
the sky’s kind but cool
we still have a ways to go
the devil’s chord
in the grey pain of suburbia
through the unwashed windows
spiced heavy with cloves and tea leaves
wavering tritone chords drift by
lost,
weary,
looking for a home or a host.
they call to the girl in the yard,
who spins around still barefoot,
stepping in the icy evening dew and the rotting apples that decorate the ground
she feels the tension in her tissue,
the hollowness in her bones,
the decay in her paper-flaky skin.
ah, yes. this pretty pastry will make a lovely nest.
“Dalhousie poets” is a rotating column in the Gazette’s Art & Lifestyle section featuring poetry by students on various subjects. Interested in submitting your verse? Email arts@dalgazette.com.
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