Band-aid
Posted by Marion Smallwood | Filed under Poetry, Print
bless you.
thank you for forgetting to cover your mouth.
you sneeze the smoke from your teeth the way
cigarettes drown in jukeboxes.
you told me you stopped smoking.
what was in all that gray?
i can only guess there was a coat,
a sock, a pair of books
and a ‘we have nothing in common’.
i don’t breathe much these days.
please don’t look at me,
my hands are raining.
try and pull a touch or two from them
before i get wise enough to shove them back
in my pocket.
i will.
it was snowing
when i first introduced my face to the sky.
sop me up with the storm coming,
don’t forget to let me go,
or i’ll choke you ‘til you’re brown in the face.
i thought of you right before the morning.
it felt like ripping
i woke up melting
my knees crack so oddly now.
my tattoo upside-down is your name,
i thought somewhere in the middle we tried.
by the way,
this isn’t a poem
it’s a band-aid.
One Response to “Band-aid”
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Sruthi Says:
February 22nd, 2010 at 9:02 pmsick stuff marion
