he leaves no oxygen

.

his face
its crooked smile
gunshot eyes

its imperfections
lines-
perhaps traced at one time
by tender finger-tips?
speak of a life

speak of shadows

and leave behind
a beautiful stain
upon perfect skin

his words
thrum
like the
echoing heartbeat
of the hummingbird

and his junk-yard dog howl
resonates
against the nerves
of my life

i paint him in the abstract
no defined place
in me

yet still
his edges
and sharp angles
rub against me

and press me to ache.

— pleiades, Apr 19, 2010

About This Poem

About the Author

Critiques

pleiades

16 years 1 month ago

for you…yes, you.

for you...yes, you.

Esker

16 years 1 month ago

illusive is a master turn to look

you are written in me as\smoke at dusk mist vigils with dark night lacing beech wood and pine' the breath of being humble so intimate' breif in slowing past the drags exposing' lands and something of which profile excites own taste like grooves drawn on the sleeping sculpt granite hip that rises up from waters keep this personal breeze making animation light losing thought the hereafter distance that dwells in arms to seek ...

pleiades

16 years 1 month ago

you have the soul of a

you are a poet... it's there in every word, every phrase, every thought, and sound you make you inspire me p.

Dalton

16 years 1 month ago

lovely work. sparce but

lovely work. sparce but effective use of language. a careful use of words. one must read it several times to get the full meaning of this one. there is not a phrase or flourish of words that i do not like here. it is perfect and a pleasure to read. JohnX

pleiades

16 years 1 month ago

such a nice review… thank

such a nice review... thank you so much p.