mrs_mia_wallace
Bluelighter
The house was made of driftwood
Picked from the beach like dead sand crabs
And piled on boats like bars of nickel.
The subway rattled above the house
Like the flesh of an octopus,
The tentacles kissing and sucking
On the frozen footsteps of a thousand hitchhikers.
I returned to the house and my feet grew
Entwined with the juniper trees,
My face a hole in the belly of the trunk,
Lips as bruised as bark, and a throat
As winding as a Cyclops tomb.
Years later my footsteps
Were indented by the needle of a bumblebee;
My scarlet pollen flooded the rivers,
Infecting sand like a plague.
And the house throbbed like the heart
Of a terrorist’s bomb, counting with anticipation
Towards the beginning of a requiem mass,
Held under the juniper trees.
Picked from the beach like dead sand crabs
And piled on boats like bars of nickel.
The subway rattled above the house
Like the flesh of an octopus,
The tentacles kissing and sucking
On the frozen footsteps of a thousand hitchhikers.
I returned to the house and my feet grew
Entwined with the juniper trees,
My face a hole in the belly of the trunk,
Lips as bruised as bark, and a throat
As winding as a Cyclops tomb.
Years later my footsteps
Were indented by the needle of a bumblebee;
My scarlet pollen flooded the rivers,
Infecting sand like a plague.
And the house throbbed like the heart
Of a terrorist’s bomb, counting with anticipation
Towards the beginning of a requiem mass,
Held under the juniper trees.
