Spring: Flu Season
My eyes have many holes
and I am swollen beyond
belief, like a Bible left out
in fall rain, before the snow
when wet is a word used,
for the way we walk.
But this isn’t about us, or
at least it didn’t begin that way
and all of a sudden,
I’m right back to writing
about you again.
How selfish of you
to remember, what
it was like to kiss me,
like I have put my skin
into your lips without
permission.
And I guess, it’s just the way
we keep our tongues still
behind our teeth, filthy mouths
and all tied into nooses.
Whimpering beneath,
subtle tides never looked
so young with life and
I can still smell the gunpowder
on your blouse.
