by Jennifer Greenberg
Blankets, blankets, bed
of worry. There stir,
there sleep, there shake the
dreams. Skin to skin, we
spooled like thread. There mouth.
There feet. Our quiet
disbelief. There try
try try, and need need
need, and touch on touch,
on neck on neck on
neck, kiss neck. Bite, blow,
bend the curtains back.
Bless light that bolts the
windows with breath of
morning. Warm on warm.
Want on want. Bless nose
on nose and knees. Brush
hair from the face, that
face, that face. Brush up
against and away
from. Us, this us, this
locomotive us,
touch thigh, touch palms (that
holy palmers touch)
just to please, please, please,
apologize for
nothing. Feel home, feel
sick. Feel many miles
between us. Want kiss.
Want more kiss. Want to
want to want to need
you. Want old days to
come back new. Want all
this wanting to just
die already. There
tease. There take. Grasping
for what’s already
gone. Make noise. Make tea.
Make prayer for the
lonely. Hold hands. Bless
hands. Devil took my
hands. That crave. That quake.
That itching in the
gut. Bless lips, on lips.
Devil took my lips.
Here comes the blue, bruise
sky. Backside of the
moon. Underside of
night. Give hug. Give up.
Give me your sideways
eyes. Gonna miss those
looks, gonna miss those
bones; neck; breasts; chest, bell
for the blood that keeps
ringing. Listen, hey,
listen. It’s ringing.
Jennifer is an opacarophile and associate editor with the South Florida Poetry Journal. More of her poems can be found at Literary Mama, SWWIM Everyday, Homology Lit, Coffin Bell, Frontier Poetry, The New Southern Fugitives and @LegitLiterature on Instagram.