Conversing In A Black Cadillac

This is the moment
When everything in my world
Boils down to one car ride.

All the lights of the universe
Were slowly disappearing,
The Gods of the sky
Turning the stars on,
One by one.

You turned to me,
Silhouette boy of night vision
And too much grit between your fingers,
And asked me what was in a poem.

How can one verbalize
That words are a juxtaposition
Of moods, memories, stolen moments,
When a strange boy has her knee
Knotted between the crook of his palm,
Kneading the flesh like dough.

This is a sort of moment
When all those unmarked postcards,
The parties you never got invited to,
The presents from friends who never came
Twirl down and about like unnecessary graffiti.

Tears, words, impalement of moon girth,
Like little white checks on a chess board,
All the important things I have to say
Stick themselves in the mud,
A playground fort of unshed annihilation.


(First featured in The Litter Box, 2010)