Keep Art Alive :: Art by Sylvia Ji

Drink up with me now,
and forget all about,
the pressure of days,
do what I say,
and I’ll make you okay,
and drive them away;
the images stuck in your head.”

Direct Hit
by me

I wake to the memory flood,
sticky and sharp like boardwalk taffy,
salty from the ocean,
from your lips,
and from mine.

Close quarter comfort,
our bodies like bed sheets tangling,
skin-stuck as if Summer stayed around for a spell,
ice on the window pane,
a criss-cross opposition to the clinging humidity,
from the two-for-one walls,
from our skin.

You crawl across me like a fever,
at-attention flesh tingling as I swallow every word,
my body turns fluid,
warm honey liquid descending from my mind,
to the secretest of spots,
the ones you used to whisper to,
straight on until morning.

Poetic punctures tear into me,
my spine stretches and stings,
one direct hit as if you knew how it would feel,
I can still see your eyes squinting,
hear the echo of your laughter,
locked behind a door thinking damn,
she’s still wanting.

Between the Bars (live) :: The Civil Wars

Leave a Reply