Monday, August 17, 2009

fall out (a work in progress)

I've been sitting on this poem for a few weeks now. I'm trying to get into the habit of writing longer pieces. I figured phases and variations might be a way to do that. This poem, so far, is in four parts. Help me revise!

fall out

nuked i

I have an irrational fear
of being too close
to working microwaves.
After just being
set usually into the next
room I run or further
enough away to not
hear the disturbing hum
of particle excitement.

I pushed inside you, one
night when we were both so lit
and our feelings sat on top
our skins. You were telling me
how scared you were I’d leave
you in a confessional
tone. You went
on to say you loved me.
I agreed I loved you as
I agreed to love you back.

Water tends unattended
to evaporate. Microwaved
molecules break apart
from each other reconfiguring
onto the walls of the appliance’s
insulated shell. Inside
the mug there might only
be trace amounts. White residue:
from minerals of the tap.

nuked ii

when you mouth a name into his
ear that is your own, does it take
his breath away? does it move
you too? or is it a gesture: the finger
moving into the button just pushed?

there is a vacuum
of air caused by the boom
of a hydrogen bomb. sound can’t travel
where there is none
so at the face of the combusting shell
you won’t hear the bang
turn you into pink mist.

though you’ll notice ticking
mistaking warning
for a pulse.

nicked i

It cut right, a tiny
lesion on the surface
of epidermis, below
the lip and a carmine
bead transformed
the mouth into an eye
which wept red.

On the pink
skin the nicked lip
quickened the blood
coming, a red
ball leaking air in
reverse, as it bled.
Therein, it did not quit.

I filled with not
the fear I would
scar, that moment I
would have thought, instead
I dreaded as it thinned (not
thickened) it would never
end and I would bleed to death.

nicked ii

the spot splat pink
clinking on the blank
white rim around
the basin. suddenly less
dark red ink than it was
when it left my lips,
a factory of polka-dotted tears
of toilet paper.

the fogginess was lifting
off the mirror.