jessicacolleenmcdermott

Poetry/Creative non-fiction/fiction

My Disease June 19, 2011

Filed under: Poetry — jessicacolleenmcdermott @ 1:53 pm
Tags: , ,

You are a rash with no name,
crimson bumps across my skin.
An odor of dead fish, a numbing
voice of lies, a shadow
that makes me shiver.
Our last night together tastes
the way itchiness feels:
the way Jeff Goldblum itches
when his body morphs in The Fly.
Flies don’t itch.
The dozen roses you surprised
me with in June have all died.
Your pretty-boy money couldn’t
buy you love, and because you loved
me I hate you now.
The Devil’s beating his wife:
the noisy rain of intimacy and loss
burned our hands.
We were as honest as Charon,
rowing the innocent underground.
I was young when we drifted down Styx,
but what were you?
Next time you dream it won’t be a kaleidoscope
vision of my face.  I won’t exist there, after
the sun drops below our feet.
Je veux le monde- the whispering grass,
the bleeding sky, even the rashes that spit
scarlet shaded diamonds across skin.

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