As originally published on Poetry Super Highway, editor Rick Lupert, Los Angeles, California, August 2022.
Combed up Velvet
Windswept gatherings of confused moths
cloud over and flitter across
my speckled memory, moving,
candlelit flowers, held up above, hovering
white linen, rough
woven dusty with peachy
sprinkles that sparkle, sparkle
as a twinkling
shine. Just like
angelic mysteries, spread out and about and unorganized as
this and these,
my thoughts of what was
As if there, their
unheavenly scissored up, snipped and cut
insistence, unsated and sticking
to my attention
lazy, bump, thump
tacked heavy to jazzy sax beats
wanting more space on the train
just tapping steady, beating softly
at my shoulders, but I blink away
your gaze and
whatever there was
Toss it, again your smile and then a strapped touch, thick in emotion I do not want to remember or consider this part of this eventual go away, but-. Your face (damn it) (what you said next) and then another *thing* that I used to like petals down, slow and sloppy out the window I cannot turn away anymore from the window and in your hair over by the window breathing vanilla musk kisses and Daring Your smirk should not be in my mind, dragging through me, too much my old unwanted memory feeling brushed up to a thick stuff, combed up velvet fingertips bent, earth spinning outside our own seams with us and I’m still dizzy, becoming a bubble sipped up dripping, running away from what absolutely have to be dried-forever thoughts, away, then a drop, a petaling sparkle, dusted away, then I realized it, I can wait for your return, your next visit, your revenge, too your comeback of what never really was. I can.
I rake up and through
I’m way past you
and all that
combed up velvet.
Read about my experience being showcased on Poetry Super Highway as a Poet of the Month right here.