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Old 09-17-2011, 01:07 AM
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Devon (Offline)
Guard Dog and Playful Pup
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Join Date: Sep 2007
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Default Tracing - Baywriter

Tracing

We drove over paper maps and pulled
our fingernails along the lines to remember
how we got from corner to corner.
We made campfires with words,
watched them get hot and jump on our skin.
That road we took was cut up in dead ends,
and we pocketed back roads
because you were never sure.

Your face on the way was chipped,
a fragment at every stop to remind us
that we had missed nothing.
Gasoline sap coming out of broken trees
with kerosene leaves, all the grass
was like charred fingers under our feet,
because we took everything.

A gathering of mud brought stampedes
from our lips to the wrinkled rocks.
Folds from missteps. Folds from perfect footing.
And the grime gripped when we made our fire
that night. We needed to be kindling, permanent
and dry. You said skin was good for peeling
because we’re so tender underneath.

I watched you dismember your body
until you were just clusters of crumbles
scattered on the side of the street.
We made the world fit for roadkill
to inhale slowly in premeasured pieces
because you needed me to carry you.

I like to go tracing over continents
and highway forest fires,
or wherever you left those faces and fragments.
The road we took was paper on fire,
and my fingernails are filed down to the skin
because I tried to go back again.
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Last edited by Tau; 09-24-2011 at 01:00 AM..
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