Three poems from Fall 2020

[crashmargulies]

Three poems on a fling I had in the fall of 2020. Observant readers will note that this WAS in fact exactly around the time of my wedding and that no, these poems are not about my ex-spouse. Such is being, as my good friend Abby Mahler says, a polyamorous heartslob.

- - -

before and after

what’s the opposite
of a crater? the antithesis
of a war zone?
come with me, see
the edge where the abyss sits, gazing
back into you—have you ever
flung yourself,
terrified,
over the edge into the water
that might not be there, waiting?
here—
lightning under your heels, let it
lift you up, see the
sunfire on the void beneath.
are you falling or flying?
does it matter?
somewhere there are
fingers
sinking into warm earth;
eyebrows quirked like
invitations, eyes
like the river, hands
looking for the word for yearn
between the gaps of your body.
here—when you hit the water,
does it sparkle or shine?
is the beauty in the splash
or the ripples?
is it the storm
or the quiet after
that you’re craving?


-----


crossing god

it easily crosses god, this
thing between us, this
shard of sunlight. I
think I loved you when I met you.
I think I met you
so we could be this—
this edge in the fog, this
spark of lightning. god,
if I'm a force of nature, honey,
you're a physics lesson.
teach me
all the things about me I didn't know.
show me all the ways
I didn't know I wanted. god,
when I first kissed you I split your lip
like the skin of a peach. I didn't notice
the blood, red leaf-print on my fingertips.
  I only saw the way we shook
like oak trees in a thunderstorm,
stepping off the precipice,
hands raised,
fingers crossing
god
like a fuck-you.
like a promise. close your eyes.
stick out your tongue.
taste what's next 
like the water you drank from my mouth.
god
has nothing on this—
has nothing on you.

-----

6am dark rainwater

6am dark rainwater 
in the filter of my cigarette, roommate
awake in the once-attic watching 
other people's alarm bells. I
had a voice to fill this void last week, there
was lightning in my bones last week. I
can never get over how time moves
like a badly-pulled string.
we pulled
on the poorly made thing and it
unraveled faster than we could keep up.
the abyss stares back into you.
the abyss moves back into you 
like a childhood home full of 
water stains. rainwater 
on my cigarettes, rainwater
a panicked heartbeat on the windowsill.
does the king know you love him still?
are you ever more than a footnote 
on a greater man's list of regrets?
6am dark, rainwater. 
there is never enough time.

Comments

[pikkulapsii]

6am rainwater is probably my favorite, not that I don't like the others. Can't say why. I think I like the idea of lightning in my bones.

[crashmargulies]

Thank you!!!