a poem.

[kleenexwoman]

We’d tangle like rats
in old newspapers yellow with dust,
worm-pink tails
twined in shoelace knots.

I wrote that for my boyfriend a while back. I kept meaning to add to it, but it always seemed finished. It's surprisingly easy to write a love poem to nobody, and surprisingly hard to write a love poem to someone you love beyond all ration.

Comments

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

Not bad, not bad. Except that this for some reason reminds me that I have a big pile of books, newspapers, and old shirts in my room that's been quite spidery of late and I probably should go after it with gusto, by which I mean all the dusting power at my command. You're my backup here. If you hear me yell, come after me with a vacuum cleaner and some whiskey.