My best work is often maintenance
by Elisabeth Horan
I stand and stare
at your naked back
for the wrong reasons
it is an escape I long
to splash face first into
---knots, barriers
chinks in the armor
---ribs encircle the organs,
I wonder if I
imagine it harder,
I could plunge in my hand
and feel the lust for peace,
and quiet --- the passion for heat
upon my limp and dull fingers
--- if I pressed my chest into your chest
would it thump me a code,
a drum beat to signify
I'll love you
if I survive
and not implode
here and now
with your lips on my lips;
our foreheads touch and
I suck out the bad drips;
one by one ravens fly
out of your ears,
they love me, I set them free ---
I give you my tongue to play with,
to distract you
from my work;
now the jelly flows out
of your ears
now inert, it's lifeless
--- her evil hold on you
relinquished
you shan't feel badly again today.
Your mother always loved
you. The hand? it never touched you.
Your brother made it
safely to shore, swam
all the way, I watched him stroke. God
holds out his palm, and you jump
on board
---my work is done
for today. Tomorrow
I'll be back again; find you
hunched
and seething
in a doorway, and I'll suck
out the devil
once more.
at your naked back
for the wrong reasons
it is an escape I long
to splash face first into
---knots, barriers
chinks in the armor
---ribs encircle the organs,
I wonder if I
imagine it harder,
I could plunge in my hand
and feel the lust for peace,
and quiet --- the passion for heat
upon my limp and dull fingers
--- if I pressed my chest into your chest
would it thump me a code,
a drum beat to signify
I'll love you
if I survive
and not implode
here and now
with your lips on my lips;
our foreheads touch and
I suck out the bad drips;
one by one ravens fly
out of your ears,
they love me, I set them free ---
I give you my tongue to play with,
to distract you
from my work;
now the jelly flows out
of your ears
now inert, it's lifeless
--- her evil hold on you
relinquished
you shan't feel badly again today.
Your mother always loved
you. The hand? it never touched you.
Your brother made it
safely to shore, swam
all the way, I watched him stroke. God
holds out his palm, and you jump
on board
---my work is done
for today. Tomorrow
I'll be back again; find you
hunched
and seething
in a doorway, and I'll suck
out the devil
once more.
Biography
|
Elisabeth Horan is an imperfect creature from Vermont advocating for animals, children and those suffering alone and in pain - especially those ostracized by disability and mental illness. She is Poetry Editor for Anti-Heroin Chic Magazine and one half of Animal Heart Press. @ehoranpoet / ehoranpoet.com
Bola and Elisabeth have teamed up to create a chapbook together "The Shape of (Wo) man", forthcoming in 2019 from Flypaper Magazine. These poems are from that collaboration. They hope you enjoy this preview of the dynamite... <3 |
