pear

it’s hot
yellowing sheets from sweat
the outline of your body a flippant pear
how long till the screens bore holes in your eyes?

please just leave your room.

you used to have a square jaw but
you swelled from
binges
and lack of movement.

if only your shins didn’t splint, you say. it’d have been so different.

maybe it’s just inertia,
this island you’ve swum to,
alone, burnt, insides aching.
but once you’re there,
by god,
you can’t stop.

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Highline highwrite

everyone around us judging judging judging
turning their sides and their mouths forming ohs
chitter of cell phone conversations,
gentle foreign langue drifting up up up from a call home and
the whirr of air conditioners and
clack-slap-smick of shoes slapping traps on the wood walk.

the flick of their heads then eyes then brains:
you draw them in sharp-like, blue.
necks snap and I just wonder if it’ll ever calm down,
if you’ll stop.

then warm press of lips and cheek
tastes of salt and bug spray and flowers,
cattails thick wildflower blooded mauve
rasp behind us, side by side on the bench.

you use that false high voice when marketing light-up shoes to strangers
but can you even see what you’re doing
when you’re running like that?

when the whole world collapses and chooses you as center of mass
and a bloodflood rush (it all comes to you)
and you,
you are the funnel, the universal bottom.
energy pours in, anxious and ruby, passing through you to somewhere:
but you’re not sure where, are you?

games

i feel sad,
and the blankets
crumpled at my knees
are cozy and serious.

yesterday was my birthday.

she’s back in the ring of things,
gloves off, ready to fight.
is she crying? or is it sweat?
i never could tell
except for up close.

i hate watching
her feel it,
the attack.
somewhere near,
tightening edges
careful sidesteps
loose and desperate lunges.
contact at last, and
a crowd,
roaring.

i sigh, turn my phone off,
and slide further under the blankets.