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Ozone
Heavy
by Meredith Holderbaum
I write poems for you,
But I can’t keep them.
The words make me angry,
So I release them
and they become darting fireflies
on a humid, summer night.
Down by the river, we are children
And we scratch, kick, fight,
Throwing punches until one of us
lies underneath the other
on the dew wet ground,
the weight of the world on our shoulders,
the weight of lust a combustible flutter in our eyes.
Still, the fireflies dart
Just past my fingertips,
Tracing ancient patterns along hidden fault lines.
Just past my fingertips, out of reach
where they belong.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I want to break you,
Peer inside and draw you in
under my skin.
I am arid, you are water.
I am empty, you would fill me
Then drain me and spark me alight
With the dynamic flames that keep your wings
Hot and irridescent.
I ghost.
I ghost.
I am sweating oasis,
shedding my skin,
longing to be beside, within, alive.
About
the Poet:
Meredith
Holderbaum can be reached at ladybard@adelphia.net. |
