drink, drank, drunk

it was drinking myself from the inside out:
every drop of internal stuff sucked dry,
every pearl of bile or blood or stomach acid
drained. i tossed my bones around inside
my skin, thought they might look better
arranged some other way.

on my back in a room blanketed by blue
curtains, fingers pressed against the wall
trying to steady a body rolling
like wind-beaten dunes. he licks and twists me,
trying to wring the last bit of wetness
from cartilage, metacarpals, the sheen
over the eyeballs – where he stands,
no puddle forms.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s