Unknown's avatar

Psychosomatic

I dreamt about you today.

Washed ashore in a sea of blackout drunk and fever,

Drenched in sweat and saltwater

……..

I told my therapist ‘displacement’ was a sexist trope,

A hysterical comorbidity, of upper-class trophy wives, resurrected from an Era that didn’t know what epilepsy was.

……..

He asked me why my shoulders ache.

And I remembered I had carried you here

I remembered how I watch for you on trains.

I remembered turning to find you standing in the center of my nightmares.

……..

The muscles in my neck twist out my spine

As it hangs from your clothesline

A bucket of bubbles and palpitations

Churning in outlandish red light

……..

Sweep me back out to queasy seas

And find me picking your words out from between my teeth like old food

Unknown's avatar

Jesus and My Feet

There's a space that begs for poems
But I have no blood to write in
And I'm too young to choke to death on broken dreams

And I'm drowning in these memories
But I have no blood to fight them
So I think that I should probably go to sleep

But I'll sit here in the space you've made
From poetry and rhythm
And I'll try not to feel the weight between these notes

And on Sunday they will talk about
How Jesus healed the broken
But they'll never stop to ask who crushed my feet