Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Becoming the Breeze That Chases the Boy

Blush is the skin after his voice
it weighs as much as the tongue flustered.
Where clarity does not come without ache,
and like a egrets cautious step in peril,
                          the body slows to naught.

The senses concede each muscle, fluid,
an oceans barrage. The vascular parapet,
the dark valves of altars, a reminder that one
must prepare on the wire for collapse.

One must thicken arteries to cease the flow,
so the language that pushes through his throat
does not slip into the open spaces, pierce
                        the defenses with a single flutter
just as the heart begins to calm, when Autumn
has left a deeper auburn on the leaves,
just when you have glanced away for a moment.

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