I pry
a cream and needle
s
ky from you, when my voice
nodes with yours, and twin
stained
bruises billow loosely through
our bites.

I rode my bike to see you. I rode my bike through the
pained branches of midsummer. There was a place I
wanted to get to. Your hands stitched your words to
the air. You roll out against me, tenderest jelly. I
rode my bike straightaway through your face, and
landed amply in these pools.

–stoic but calculated days–



=====


NEW!!!–Dirty Milk–reactive poem for microphone http://www.lewislacook.com/DirtyMilk/

http://www.lewislacook.com/

tubulence artist studio: http://turbulence.org/studios/lacook/index.html








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