Formaldehyde in shabby cluster, a tap on the cigarette
\nas a conductor would call attention from his stand.
\nAir so still, our glasses linear on the diner table, in a
\nduel to death, and I am so afraid of my veins speaking
\nto yours in this mutual silence, I contrive my tendons
\nfrom being interlocked, not just in their own hinges,
\nbut with yours.<\/p>\n
(She, a stare from eye to eye, captivating my
\ncaptive pulse, pendulum pupils swaying down to her
\nknees, angled sharp.) Headlined above the curtain pole,
\na candid light leaning its flicker on the distance between,
\nshoelace to colored shoelace, and still life passerby,
\nin motive: never wasting a goddamn.
\nSober sun sunken beneath a dance club flare, a
\nflorid scab across the street, me enjoying the printer
\nink shore devouring the lit pools, rippled with clamor.
\nKnuckles popping like bubble gum snaps, and cracking
\nyour neck as if preparing for a gallows in a diner.
\nThere were tendrils of fog, unscathed in the street,
\na concrete miasma stifled, lacking current, the curious
\nfumes less deliberate than the smoke you bellow
\naway from me.<\/p>\n
And in conversation, I am similar to the anatomy of fog
\nenveloping all your sparse remarks, your thin
\npostcard comments. I wouldn’t call either of us hesitant.
\nSomehow, I’ve begun to adore the manhole cover shade about your eyes,
\nlike sagging dollar store bags, and how you carry all you see in those jaded sockets.
\nEven how our dreamless, empty lifestyles are massaged by dry coffeehouse
\n“dates,” I’ve learned to love how easily I am filled by such
\nmetallic, civilized warmth.<\/p>\n
(We had no necessity for words, in moments such as these,
\nno apocalyptic mindset, no inhuman sense of perfection–
\njust the joyful movement made by she and I, the parking
\nof the car anywhere.) I wanted nothing but the distance
\nin between where we each sat, and not you. Not you.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Formaldehyde in shabby cluster, a tap on the cigarette as a conductor would call attention from his stand. Air so still, our glasses linear on the diner table, in a duel to death, and I am so afraid of my veins speaking to yours in…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":281,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9426","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9426","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/281"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9426"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9426\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9653,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9426\/revisions\/9653"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9426"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9426"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9426"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}