PoetryRepairShop 03.10:117

PoetryRepairShop 03.10:117
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MATTHEW RETOSKE

Storm, Idle Storm


I'll not soon be fitful 
Where scattering footsteps tread. 
Nor commune o'er telepaths 
With the woken storm, 
Or the waking dead. 

So it befalls and befits 
This constitution's ether, 
The air woody and warped with wet wood rain- 
And the pungent paths plowed by industrious worms, 
Stroking the strings 
To push a soundless symphony in green 
From roots locked in glass, 
And hurricane gales blown 
Rushing the face of cloud mountains 
Down weightless peaks 
Across watery plains. 

Ghostskin, illumined 
Waxen complexion 
In the corner eye of tunnel vision. 
In emptiness spaces, 
Between broken spines 
On my dusty shelves. 

Form like features 
Lit by smoke glare 
From a snuffed candle, 
In the library echo 
Of a mindful mind. 
Silent as mute crackles 
On the surface of silk 
Gripped and whipped ripples 
Through grass in a dream. 
Too soon ended. 

Where droplet mouths pout 
To the rhythmic snare of thunder 
Into streams 
Over my brittle face 
The whistles of inconsequential wishes, 
Individualized by an aspiration no more lofty 
Than to become a citizen of the Universe.

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WENDY HAMMOND & MATTHEW RETOSKE
Confluence

intention is the color of your eyes distorted on the borderline of sleep the random flickering tessera pressed into wet cement sheets pay passage across the confluence- of three rivers, where only two are real- to a dream mosaic, where I keep you from sight, strapped and submerged- more lost, than hidden is it forbidden? i touch myself where i want you to be, stretch strained shoulders to stroke deeper than within hiss like your cigarette kiss on my skin singe of tongue tantalize imagine the heat rise lusting, wet and weak throb between thighs on fire moist mixed hard you're man, you're woman for one cheap deceived hour leather devours lace, nibbles neck an outline of her legs wrapped around the moon reflect loose linen lace threads delicate connections, stranger beds severed by the force of thrust shine supple black on black reflection defines ripples of breath entwined bodies, pressed against she laps the fluids of his sex, a whisper's tease manifests under the covers, unfinished business, latent senseless, longing unfilled never pounded into submission or out of self-loathed memory by a multi-colored prism lover
copyright WENDY HAMMOND & MATTHEW RETOSKE
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03.10

109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
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