12-11-2013, 10:44 PM
Does this smooth it out somewhat?
“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she said, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how fear is folded into aging eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow under skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips; quick flame;
the suckling of ash: erotic exhalations
that fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant
haze. I also thought that angels
would appease. They don’t. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while I lie
stretched over my bed between
days which fray to inebriated evenings;
come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive
divinities. And though I wish to float into the night,
even the birds, drunk on rotted fruit, are devastated
by the window.
“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she said, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how fear is folded into aging eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow under skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips; quick flame;
the suckling of ash: erotic exhalations
that fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant
haze. I also thought that angels
would appease. They don’t. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while I lie
stretched over my bed between
days which fray to inebriated evenings;
come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive
divinities. And though I wish to float into the night,
even the birds, drunk on rotted fruit, are devastated
by the window.