Please note: this is not autobiographical.


in this place
your place of darkness
rubber plant
stale oranges
accumulated dust and the
sight of a church spire
gothic and old, from your window
lit up in the night -
i would give this to you.

dank raw new tightness
i would that you desired
the surrender of this gift
metallic leakage
sweat
skin skin
in amongst the oranges which match
cellulite skin on my too-white thighs
as-yet untouched.

i would tell you this
with my body
and my eyes

if it were not for your smile
the warmth that emanates
softly
whenever
- often -
you think of her.


this stemmed, in case you're interested, from an image. my writing often does, particularly the descriptive stuff. pretty sure that this semester my focus is going to be primarily on poetry... i'd like to work on being as good as i can be within this one medium, as opposed to mediocre at everything i try :P

speaking of which, the play is going well. we open in a week, and i'm pretty nervous, but in a good way.

more when i write it.