The ship sank deep when it came off the tracks of the waves.
Just days before, she’d climbed on board his shoulders when his smile offered itself as a safe platform to step onto. They’d danced along the floorboards, as the belly of his boat slithered through caterpillar mangroves, past houses with held in whispers that hung like crooked teeth on slopes. The sea seemed so lazy, so she took off her shoes and sank into his muscles. She looked up at the grey sky in their eyes, unalarmed and was pleased she could smell the rain approaching. His lips always tasted better through it. The coffee in her mug grew cold and bitter as he turned his back on her, so she stumbled over the piled up baggage in the aisle to see out the window on the other side what could be causing it. It looked like winter. The rain had slowed and frozen into snow. She wasn’t afraid. She always understood where autumn went and why it came back, but he never did. Turn back that is. She could see now that his fingers were webbed and he was breathing through gills. The wind rushed up her bare legs as she stood there in his striped shirt and her feet felt soggy. She looked down at her toes, willing them to be fins.
She should have known better than to board a boat of paper, but she loved the feeling of drowning too much.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Blue-white underpants
His smell still lingered in the rooms. It clung to her body, all needy, no matter how wide she opened the windows. No matter how many times she lost herself in the shower.
The sun promised a fresh start this morning as it streamed through matted hair and dried the water droplets off her skin as she stood on cool bathroom tiles. The warmth tickled her nipples gently the way his breath sometimes would.
She folded yesterdays washing, including two pairs of his underwear and that T-shirt that always pinched a little across his chest.
She took a deep breath as she thought back to when they’d stretched out under a candy sky with bare toes like little piglets, muddy and squealing in delight as their owners lips found a million ways to move and fascinate.
Before they moved in angry lines. Before they trembled. Before tears mixed with spittle on their shaky platforms.
She held out his boxer briefs, all stiff to the touch from the sun and climbed into them. Wrapped them around at her waist and secured them with a bobby pin. She would allow herself this just for today while she used the other pair to scrub the floors and scour every last scent, dust and doubt away.
The sun promised a fresh start this morning as it streamed through matted hair and dried the water droplets off her skin as she stood on cool bathroom tiles. The warmth tickled her nipples gently the way his breath sometimes would.
She folded yesterdays washing, including two pairs of his underwear and that T-shirt that always pinched a little across his chest.
She took a deep breath as she thought back to when they’d stretched out under a candy sky with bare toes like little piglets, muddy and squealing in delight as their owners lips found a million ways to move and fascinate.
Before they moved in angry lines. Before they trembled. Before tears mixed with spittle on their shaky platforms.
She held out his boxer briefs, all stiff to the touch from the sun and climbed into them. Wrapped them around at her waist and secured them with a bobby pin. She would allow herself this just for today while she used the other pair to scrub the floors and scour every last scent, dust and doubt away.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
yum
I wanted to warn you girls today not to wear over the knee socks. The air is crisp as fresh white sheets and bites and nips at delicate skin and my thighs feel like baby mammals exposed to the elements by their mothers careless abandon.
Unless of course, you had someone with two strong but gentle hands, covering them every step of the walk, which would be entirely hot but rather unlikely, in which case, you should try and walk out the door naked today and see if his hot hot hands can keep up with every inch of your body.
Unless of course, you had someone with two strong but gentle hands, covering them every step of the walk, which would be entirely hot but rather unlikely, in which case, you should try and walk out the door naked today and see if his hot hot hands can keep up with every inch of your body.
origami
I’ve been folding lately.
This corner of my mind
to that corner
creating origami landscapes
for thoughts
with deep crevices
for the devil to hide in
and edges
of ideas
so sharp,
you could hurt yourself on them.
I’ve scrunched up failures
and thrown them in the bin,
pushed cranes
across a sea of light
and I’m watching my dreams soar
in the form of paper airplanes,
all pointy nosed
and determined
and I think
I’m able to tend
to the tiny paper cuts
on my fingers
all by myself.
This corner of my mind
to that corner
creating origami landscapes
for thoughts
with deep crevices
for the devil to hide in
and edges
of ideas
so sharp,
you could hurt yourself on them.
I’ve scrunched up failures
and thrown them in the bin,
pushed cranes
across a sea of light
and I’m watching my dreams soar
in the form of paper airplanes,
all pointy nosed
and determined
and I think
I’m able to tend
to the tiny paper cuts
on my fingers
all by myself.
talking through pillows in clouds and echoes
When you and me are thrown,
when we’ve shed our skin
and scales.
After our lips are all different types of wet.
Wet from you,
from me,
to be free,
oiled
and ready to move
some more.
After the throat has exercised
its strings
it sings
and foreplay was like warming up
in moans
and husks
before striding onto a floodlit stage
where we both play the lead
slowing our speed
and our dialogue is of the spontaneous
intimate sort
that makes the audience sink
their muscles into red velvet chairs,
tickles their hairs
and wraps them in blankets
of truth.
When the pressure is off,
on the floor with my dress
there is no need to impress,
when the animals can relax
their coloured feathers
and release their tall necks,
when they can fall back
on to all fours
let their collars curl back up
behind their ears.
When fingers start to tiptoe
gently back around
the paths they hunted on
just minutes before
and they discover
undercover
how beautiful the scenery is
now that they have time to stroll.
When we stop teasing each other
about our differences
and I think,
yes,
I’d like you to teach me
about the complexities of jazz music
and you smile
while I explain
the beauty
in the simplicity of a dance performance.
Your voice sounds sturdy
reverberating through your chest
and I feel beautiful all of a sudden.
So beautiful,
without my mask,
in my bareness,
naked and soft,
once you’ve peeled
away all the hardness
that the wind
and day coated me with.
when we’ve shed our skin
and scales.
After our lips are all different types of wet.
Wet from you,
from me,
to be free,
oiled
and ready to move
some more.
After the throat has exercised
its strings
it sings
and foreplay was like warming up
in moans
and husks
before striding onto a floodlit stage
where we both play the lead
slowing our speed
and our dialogue is of the spontaneous
intimate sort
that makes the audience sink
their muscles into red velvet chairs,
tickles their hairs
and wraps them in blankets
of truth.
When the pressure is off,
on the floor with my dress
there is no need to impress,
when the animals can relax
their coloured feathers
and release their tall necks,
when they can fall back
on to all fours
let their collars curl back up
behind their ears.
When fingers start to tiptoe
gently back around
the paths they hunted on
just minutes before
and they discover
undercover
how beautiful the scenery is
now that they have time to stroll.
When we stop teasing each other
about our differences
and I think,
yes,
I’d like you to teach me
about the complexities of jazz music
and you smile
while I explain
the beauty
in the simplicity of a dance performance.
Your voice sounds sturdy
reverberating through your chest
and I feel beautiful all of a sudden.
So beautiful,
without my mask,
in my bareness,
naked and soft,
once you’ve peeled
away all the hardness
that the wind
and day coated me with.
sticks, stones, words and bones
She keeps her head above the water,
wades in on tippy toes
clenching the sand firmly between them.
She clings to algae and mangroves,
Wraps her legs around a buoy
_'why won’t you let go darling,
It’s safe over here.
Let go of that branch,
no need for fear’_
She squeezes her eyes shut,
shakes her tresses.
She won’t,
she can’t.
Not again,
not here.
He picks her up,
swirls her around,
lays his lies in her hands
lets them mingle in the sands.
_‘Say it, bitch!
You know you’re close
It’ll be so much grander,
if you brush away those woes’_
He rattles her lose,
shakes her,
breaks her
_O.K._
she thinks
_O.K. Here I go._
_I love you,
you knew
I love you,
I really do_
_Aah
There you go hun,
that was great for me,
made me come,
real hard,
made the fuck so hot,
Don’t you see?_
He wipes his face
from his feast,
just another beast.
He lets her fall,
sees her drown
and doesn’t even turn back
to watch the last bubble burst
wades in on tippy toes
clenching the sand firmly between them.
She clings to algae and mangroves,
Wraps her legs around a buoy
_'why won’t you let go darling,
It’s safe over here.
Let go of that branch,
no need for fear’_
She squeezes her eyes shut,
shakes her tresses.
She won’t,
she can’t.
Not again,
not here.
He picks her up,
swirls her around,
lays his lies in her hands
lets them mingle in the sands.
_‘Say it, bitch!
You know you’re close
It’ll be so much grander,
if you brush away those woes’_
He rattles her lose,
shakes her,
breaks her
_O.K._
she thinks
_O.K. Here I go._
_I love you,
you knew
I love you,
I really do_
_Aah
There you go hun,
that was great for me,
made me come,
real hard,
made the fuck so hot,
Don’t you see?_
He wipes his face
from his feast,
just another beast.
He lets her fall,
sees her drown
and doesn’t even turn back
to watch the last bubble burst
stale days, fresh bread
“All off, thank you”, I confirm to the waxist while I lie back and think about the rest of my purchases and errands I want to run today. It’s our 3 year anniversary and at first I was disappointed this morning as you canceled our celebratory picnic by the river to attend a work field trip and left me between lonely sheets in bed. I sucked it up though. I truly did and decided to plan a surprise dinner for you instead. The farmers at the market load me with fresh herbs and spices and weigh my arms down with pumpkins, runny cheeses, aubergines, garlic and crusty breads. I cook all day for you, my love, a banquet of 8 different dishes and I wipe down the work of the hours from the stoves and kitchen tiles before dashing into the shower. The hot water excites my pores while I exfoliate and buff away at my skin. Through the steam I reach for body butters and lotions that linger in the air mixed with a spray of my favourite perfume. I paint a red little pout to match red nails and dark cat-like eyes behind velvet waving curtains of caramel hair. In the bedroom, I tighten up my corset, one hook at a time and slide my fingers down its skeleton pulling in my waist like gentle slopes and waking up my breasts. My toes slide into feather light thigh high stockings which I attach to suspenders that tickle milky thighs and I lengthen myself in 6 inch heels. There is just enough time to light a candle on the table and stir the pots one more time before you walk in the door and comment on how wonderful things smell, slap me on my bare bottom and to my horror leave it at that to sit, choosing the feast on the table instead. I cry a bitter embarrassed little tear into the curry and hope to god it upsets your stomach, while I suck it up, one more time, smile and hand you a bowl.
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