I hear
his bones
at night
We’ve aged
like bourbon
grown old and
brown and smooth
we swallow the other
and taste wisdom
and lost innocence
I hear
his bones
at night
a quiet calipso
of age he turns
to me
even his
smile cracks.
Month: March 2018
Bones
The bones
of his
hand
is where
I draw
my fingers
atop peaks
and below
to skinny
valleys
The bones
of your
hip fall
below your
stomach
as my fingers
dance atop
bone there
Moving
your body
I feel your
bones glide
beneath skin
as you press
against mine
Let Me Be
I leave
tomorrow
tonight let
me be
your blanket
your hands
and hips
your face
and lips
let me be
your shadowy
eyes and
your sweaty
brow
let me be
your dreams
and your dawn
I leave
tomorrow
let me be today
Nostalgia
I cast a net
into my memory
looking for the
school of nostalgia
of my lover
they shimmer silver
dart back and forth
teasing me making
hunger grow
I strike
quickly at the nearest
yesterday the day before
I lunge into the cluster
opening my mind
to the far past
and find a party
we went to
two summers
ago
Infectious
Let me see
his hair was
a bramble
of dark curls
his eyes were
large ovals and
always resembled
a deer in headlights
his cheekbones were
as high as the Alps
then cascaded down
the concave of his cheeks
to his smile which never
frowned always laughing
Let me see
he was
infectious.
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 