Christopher James

I.
The sun still
counts
minutes

With shadows grazing
the bridge
of your nose

Your irises
rest in
the shade
of two o’clock

A lone bird
demands attention
at the tip of
a solar flare.

Ringlets tousle
in a head pivot
Suddenly it is six

The white ring
on your itching wrist
darkens

There is no
marker
of his indiscretion
upon your body
of indiscretion

.

II.
…a turquoise shoe
dangles from your pinky toe
scarred
by the journey
of rough education
it dangles
dangerously
above the ocean
with expectation

the moon goes black
comes back
yo-yos
and returns
as a cat eye

the shoe waits for a nudge
for a final thought
that douses
love letters
with lighter fluid

You contemplate the heel
nearly snapped
in the taxi door

The black smudge
of his clumsiness
when he couldn’t hear
the music
He could never
hear
the music
never listened
.

to your body

The rum he spilled
on your anxious leg
ran down and inside
the sole
At the Christmas
party where you bit
your nails
pretending
he was better

He alternated
adoring and forgetting
flattering and upsetting
dancing with
and trampling you.

Inciting you to speak
to show
that
you were smart
Interrupting you
so they wouldn’t
know how smart

He ripped your dress
passed out
never hearing your
dream time breath

The shoe falls
Sun swords pierce waves
the splintered pier
shimmies
shoe won’t sink.

The passive man
Sits numbing himself with whiskey
Bleary eyes reflect greyhounds running in circles.
He asks the bartender to turn the volume up.
He wonders where you went,
Why you always seem angry,
And what time it is.

, Hide

Find it!

WP theme Design by devolux.org