Alphabet Soup Minuscule

The Laundry Maid

Acquiesce

I can forget your olive skin, or

The way you frowned when you were thinking hard thoughts.

The kind of thoughts you held inside deep.
The ones you always backspaced, left unsaid because it was safer.

I can dismiss the way I felt in your arms, even though brief, like an occasional windy afternoon.
We were hung tight like sheets on a clothesline.

Our fingers, clothespins.
Yet, you continued to snap under the pressure.

The springs within you not strong enough to carry the weight of me.
So, you let the draft carry me away.
And I took with it, my scent, my compassion and acceptance for new heights.

I cannot repudiate the regret for having tried and tried.
I can divorce this idea of back and forth. Or,
Acquiesce this leash further.
Instead I choose to cut it.
So that I could let the updraft continue to carry me.

Red of You

These marks are clustered and uniformed. 

But still, they are red of you. 

From where bodies became elements  of our fires.

Our fingers thick with the softness of our tenuity.

There is a fervent need to shuck away the parchment which covers you. As if you were an ear of corn, buttery and sweet. 

To lay my ear upon your chest, 

And wonder if its me your organs thump for, swell for. 

As I pound and swell for you.

Call for submissions: IF I Poetry and Prose Series

OVERVIEW: While listening to the radio recently, I heard several songs in a row that started with the words “If I.” This made me think of other songs and poems that begin the same way &…

Source: Call for submissions: IF I Poetry and Prose Series

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