[identity profile] switchercat.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] greatpoetry
When he finally put
his mouth on me—on

my shoulder—the world
shifted a little on the tilted

axis of itself. The minutes
since my brother died

stopped marching ahead like
dumb soldiers and

the stars rested.
His mouth on my shoulder and

then on my throat
and the world started up again



for me,
some machine deep inside it

recalibrating,
all the little wheels

slowly reeling and speeding up,
the massive dawn lifting on the other

side of the turning world.
And when his mouth

pressed against my
mouth, I

opened my mouth
and the world’s chord

played at once:
a large, ordinary music rising

from a hand neither one of us could see.

Date: 2012-01-24 08:18 am (UTC)
tree: a figure clothed in or emerging from bark (Default)
From: [personal profile] tree
this is lovely. thank you.

Date: 2012-01-24 05:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tuppeny.livejournal.com
I really like this poem. Thanks for sharing :)

Date: 2012-01-25 02:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sashay-away.livejournal.com
A beautiful poem, I like it a lot.

July 2025

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