Wednesday, April 18, 2012

To/For the Screaming Child

It would have to be blue but I (also)

want a ball not because it aches but because

my lips primarily biolumenesce blue

my most native tongue not-involves

the throat is silent and colored

even when hunched over the desk

my lips pretending to belong to

a very respected detective I wasn't

thinking about them even a little

but they were glowing blue

without me I realize I am always detecting

It is how I make it but it's so much

I say to the cows please turn off

my brain and I imagine a key hole

in my temple but never the key

but the cows aren't like me i am comfortable

when they don't blink hardly

ever and they do not know what

I taste like

Screaming child, I am sorry

in my train I forgot you and

the ball that you are screaming for

What can I say that sounds grownup and

wise don't stop screaming? never stop

desiring so loudly they press their

face into hot bricksides to hear

your safe commotion

and as for the round objects

to throw and catch-- do not believe them:

the air is changed despite what they

will say again I know you are probably

not interested anymore I know you want

that ball so badly and that is probably best

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