Splatters of Poetry

nothing else

So I did lose my art in you
somewhere
between erasing kisses, I guess
and silvery threads of love
that weave or tie
depending on the moon

I lost it in words like
forever
which became erosion
from all our
lapping and lapping
against them

jagged edges
are something, anyway
some kind of substance
but now
replaced by the smooth warm rock face
(not even sharp enough to bleed)
good for sunbathing
nothing else

It's only you now
darling
who gets to make the rain your weeping
leaving me to gather in puddles
not strong or deep or beautiful
just wet

So I relent
the warm brown of your arm and your name
around my waist
have become my borders,
but not my canvas
mud never was good for painting

Lucky for me
dirt knows no loss, no paint ,no tears
excellent stuff, you say,
wonderful for gardens
but think
(if you ever thought to ask)
it's only good for growing
nothing else

posted by Erin @ 10:03 AM 1 comments

Since you asked, Valerie,

spring makes me want to...

play rugby.
kiss on the lips.
burn my homework.
walk around and smile at people.
put my long underwear away.
get grass stains.
shave my legs and wear a skirt.
drink tea on the porch.
eat red fruits that will drip down my face.
go barefoot.
sit on a bench by the river.
stay up late.
have a dog so I can take it for a walk.
write poetry.

posted by Erin @ 12:39 PM 6 comments

For you.

for you, friend

Who can know
the smell or the taste of a friend
When the word is so cold and
flavourless on my lips

How was I to know

Monosyllabic
conversations
are always
low in protein

I’m not a vegetarian, you know

but you
fill the empty places
so I
don’t even notice

they say you’re good for me

but living on
meat and potatoes so long
I had
forgotten

hunger dresses in drag sometimes

but all I know now
is this warm satisfaction
in my belly
and your slow soft steeping in my heart

drink tea, it's good for digestion

posted by Erin @ 5:05 AM 1 comments