Poem: Because at the time

Published October 27, 2011 by wildleek

Because at the time

we love people, and so we paint them beautifully, while we still love them. We paint their hair like birds on this big lake’s breeze, waves as heavy as bodies lying down on the shore and maybe it is meant to look like this passion locked up tight in the two, small apartment of our chests. But bold honesty might paint lions crowded around a tender, panting antelope, an image more accurate of our appetite at the time, more accurate of our gusto, a word heaving itself out from the linguistic pit where words are burned, the infinitive to eat flaming up and simmering down, and the sparks are other words like disgust, maybe all the way back to the shared root between taste and choose–words falling gray as ash, tumbling down from the mother word, and there you are on the other side, your features glowing with the last embers, orange, warm, a percussive heart.

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