circle: the roundedness of a
marshmallow spent too long in your pocket,
meant for my mouth; the almost-perfect
eternity
of your fingernail as you traced my collarbone
remarking how winglike our shoulders were;
love: circle.
square: the machine-cut cube
of perfection and almonds in the form of delight,
Turkish delight, glittering like gelatin lip gloss; a
childish drawing of a house pinned to the fridge,
everyone was once foolish;
freedom: square.
we weren't even close to fairy tales. but
your hands clasped in mine felt like satiny silk
on a wedding dress made for
this warmth that pricks my heart full of
blood and oxygen that tastes of you
every second I think
this is the oldest I have ever been
this is the youngest I will ever be again
this second is gone this one too
tell me I cannot drink the air;
yet the smoke on the horizon curls like a finger,
inviting me to taste February in the wind
and know time is running out
Comments
The metaphorical language in this piece is so lovely! I'm here for your interpretation of the two shapes described in such a new, creative light.
Thank you so much!
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