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Another poem
The assignment was to make a poem based on the "eclectic" style of the poem "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart" by Jack Gilbert, which is worth a read.
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Untitled
Broken hearts understand our words,
They share sorrow with the quiet shadows
Of horses standing in a meadow.
My love is becoming hoarse,
A voice almost non-existent in the halls of me.
Touch is what my body wants from your body,
But touch is not quite enough.
Rough waves crashing against rougher waves is our touch,
Our lack of it, a puddle on the concrete.
You have clover eyes and I wooden hair,
But even in the corset of fear of neglect
Geometric puzzles are formed from our love.
If I scream from the laces becoming too tight,
Cock the ear of a paper crane and listen,
To my love roaring like a starved lion in a cage.
Maybe one day we will once again dance like dragon flies,
Or cry a crocodile’s tears,
For I can only speak through the words I write,
And your written word is useless, but your voice
Holds tight to the cartilage of my ear.
For now we might be lovers of gone and has been,
But Future may hold another story,
A fable pressed against her pregnant gut.
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