Wounded ~ National Poetry Month, Day 16

I’ve been tending my own wounds
For centuries now
Glistening sanguine dahlias
in full bloom –
Pushing through my chest

Our damage calls to one another
Your aches…
pretty, sticky, and fresh.
dusty closets and dark oiled wood
We orbit each other’s injuries
Planets pushing and pulling
In wandering harmony.

The intoxicating allure
of saltwater blood –
You wish to cup it
In your hands
It ebbs and flows
Across my eyes…
Don’t worry –
I’ll give you a lick…

But first,
Let me fall on your sword
Let me
Slide down the cool edge
To the familiar base of you
There we can converge in quiet screams.

I’ll wrap you in a tourniquet
Arms bound across your chest
I’ll hang you in a safe tree
You can bloom, as well.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s