Friday, September 27, 2013


I write poetry for you
I hide it beneath my tongue where you might find it
It is in my teeth
Your poetry is beneath my fingernails
Beneath my bite
I write poetry for you and we sing inside of each other
We sing inside sparrows
We are sparrows inked upon chests
Rib cages
We are cages made of clipped wings
Canaries, still breathing
I write poems inside of you
On the backs of your bones
Where only ghosts can see them
Where there are no sparrows
Only vultures

I sing for the death of canaries
For the loss of air
To breathe only you
I write poems on your spine
Each vertebrae a letter
My fingertips upon your back
Stroke each key
Each perfect letter until I find you
Until they make sense
My fingertips search beneath your tongue for poems
You look for mine
We write poems together
They do not make sense outside of our mouths
We write broken poetry
Dirty poetry
Love poetry
We make loud poetry
And forgotten poetry
Tucked in glove boxes on dusty roads
Our poetry is a map
Each push pin, a piece of us left behind
Each crooked line
Each small town
A space between us

I write poetry in these spaces
With stone on my skin
My hands are full of poems
I have written on the backs of a thousand miles
Then ten thousand more
I wrote that first poem
With the letters I found on your lips
When we flooded the streets with ink
And wrote poems on empty hearts
And blades of grass
We left poems inside of coffe cups
Abandoned buildings and basements
We left them in late nights and parking lots
We left poems in first dates that came last
Mac n Cheese gone wrong
Wrist watches, bad shirts and door prizes
We left poems in the wet autumn air
French fries and sweet peas
We left a poem or two in a New York toll booth
And what it took to get there
We left poems every where we went
Waiting to be forgotten
We left poems in eachother
On the tips of our tongues
So when we kissed again
We would find the letters
And write one more

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