stop.


Here You Are. Here I Am. Here We Were.

1995

we dig a hole to china in the sandbox
two feet deep.
we name it victory and cry on tuesday when
the janitor comes at night and fills it in
quietly, tamping the sand with his
broad hands.

1999

alice jennings sobs in the bathroom.
i wash my hands five times before
i ask what is wrong.

"fuck off bitch," she says.
"ok," i say, and dry my hands
carefully.

later i will draw her a picture of a sun,
fold it into an origami star
and then go home and tear it into
1,000 pieces.

2003

he dies.

2006

we lay placidly, listening to the
gentle humming of the fan. you
drum fingertips against my hip.

"are you ok?" you ask. your hand
speaks a foreign language to my
ribs.

"probably," i say.

2007

i lied.




Poetry by Inked.
Read 1047 times
Written on 2007-02-27 at 04:23

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MiVidaDeEpílogos.
i can't believe you wrote something new and it's not really new anymore and i never saw it.

as always, this is gorgeous. i will probably have to re-read it a few times. but at the moment i am too excited about your other new texts.
2007-03-26


Zachary P. B.
this is excellent... i loved it. the brokenness of it all just seems so humane. really good.
2007-03-09


salem
realy beautiful one
loved it
2007-03-03


Richard
Dear Inked.,
So glad to see you back again.
As always you're poet talent is brilliant!
Love from
Richard
2007-02-27


kid
Great poem unic and wonderful. I respect it
2007-02-27


Zoya Zaidi
*Bookmarked*
2007-02-27


Zoya Zaidi
Bravo!!!!
What a brilliant piece of poetry to stage your come back with, my talented one!
It is simply suburb, genius, powerful, expressive!
Am I running out of adjective?
(((Big fond hugs dear Inked))).
Love, Zoya
2007-02-27