Monday, March 26, 2012

Post-for-post: Scalpels and Sibilants

Entry three of my post-for-post with my friend Patrick (link to come when he gives me his). This one's a creepygory love poem. Been a while since I've written one of these. <3

Scalpels and Sibilants

When I slice you open,
I will do it with neat lines; I have the scalpel ready
to peel away the layers of tissue and skin,
muscle and bone.
When I have you alone,
I will open you wherever you feel you are poor or thin.
I want to catalogue your every part,
cover over your scars with other, better scars.
Your eyes are jellyfish; your pupils, distant stars;
I want to taste the raw flesh of your heart.
You devastate me, deadlier even
than arson or arsenic,
than atom bombs or time;
I want to know what makes you tick,
dissect the clockwork of your brain;
I want to forget my handkerchief inside your spleen,
monogrammed with my initials, so there is something in you
that is mine and only mine.
How could you ever think that you are plain
or ordinary, when you are
permanently perched somewhere between
mundanely mad or maddening, obscene?
It is obscene how I've fixated
on whatever is in you,
your capillaries, sinews,
and anything that is vaguely related
to the anatomy of my affection;
I cannot pass the cooking section
in the supermarket without staring at the knives,
deciding which one to buy for you, only for you;
it will never touch food, unless you are food,
unless we eat the fabric of our very lives,
raw, red, and dripping from lip and tongue and tooth:
your flesh and mine will be the only truth.
and that,
my love,
cannot be understood.

--Puck Malamud
Fri, 16 March 2012

Monday, March 5, 2012

Poem: Limerance

Entry 2 to my post for post with my friend, Patrick. His post can be found here. This one is a rough draft of a poem about limerance, which I actually am not feeling for anybody at the moment. Still it's a fun feeling, so I thought I'd write about it.


Lancing myself through the heart
It’s a silly game, as if
My heart is a ring, dancing in the wind.
Enjoying the gallop, are you? It’s a
Risk, but you like risking everything on the
Approach, stabbing at my heart at the last minute, you
Never miss, though. I can feel each pass, each
Centimetre of the ground you churn beneath your feet:
Everything about it feels like falling.

Hope you're all doing well!