the heart its own rough animal
poetry tumblr: GRAMMATOLATRY



What did I mean that during parties I choose the sofa // like a sick cat? That when tattoos are dispensed I’m first / in line? That books full of other people’s misery // make the beach infinitely more pleasant? Stargazing is another weakness. / Too much I examine the patch of dirt where nothing grows // where buried curiosa aren’t deep enough, though in Short Answer / I’m all for dancing alone in a silken robe. Friends call. // Mostly the machine answers. Mozart makes me cry. / I kill spiders without guilt.
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Drawn curtain: faded, black. We fucked. We hollered. Back-
tracked and let sunlight in. Repeated. Weekended
in secret. Got outed. Paused. Rebounded. Tended
belabored hearts, but badly. Madly loved. Attacked
covertly. Wept explicitly. Like sailors pressed
to duty on a ship, we gauged our endless trip
in knots; threw cannonballs of angry nots, then stripped
our decks with unexpected yeses. Reaped such bless-
ings, only to blaspheme them. Wars, then truces: meant
them. Didn’t mean them. Lost him and redeemed him. Pleased
him. Keened. Appeased no one. Repeated. When he ceased
his meanness, I retreated. Wanted, but discounted
what I needed. Didn’t know I ended when
this first began. But I would do it all again.
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