literature

Freeze Response--C.

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Literature Text

There is something
predatory
in the scrape of your nails
on the kitchen table;
in the tension of the veins
popping from your neck;
in the growl of your voice
when you admit
you can't let me go.

The air is violet, buzzing,
steeped in electrostatic hum.
The sweet scent of the hunt.
I am rabbit-eyed, wide and reckless,
knowing I have already been caught.

I hunker deep,
fighting the urge
to jack-rabbit over the table
and flee;
I'm easy prey tonight,
avoiding your hungry-wolf eyes.

You haven’t moved,
Huntsman, an army of horses
stampeding in your heart, you
are waiting for me to cower.

There are ridges
on your knuckles
and I can almost hear
the rabbits
screaming
in the cage
of your ribs
as you breathe
the cruelest words
between your teeth.

You want me less wild;
something docile and yielding
can't let me go
can't let me go

every way out is a trap.

I keep a close watch
on the claws
of your hands,
but you know
how to hurt me
from a distance.
:iconglory-be-project: Still Day 27!

THIS is a collab with the WONDERFULLY TALENTED scatteredwords

GOGOGO show her, and her version of this collaboration, some love!

Freeze ResponseThere is something
predatory
in the scrape of your nails
on the kitchen table;
in the tension of the veins
popping from your neck;
in the growl of your voice
when you admit
you can't let me go.
The air is violet, buzzing,
steeped in electrostatic hum.
The sweet scent of the hunt.
I am rabbit-eyed, wide and reckless,
knowing I have already been caught.
I hunker deep,
fighting the urge
to jack-rabbit over the table
and flee;
I'm easy prey tonight,
avoiding your hungry-wolf eyes.
You haven’t moved,
Huntsman, an army of horses
stampeding in your heart, you
are waiting for me to cower.
There are ridges
on your knuckles
and I can almost hear
the rabbits
screaming
in the cage
of your ribs
as you breathe
the cruelest words
between your teeth.
You want me less wild;
something docile and yielding
can't let me go
can't let me go

every way out is a trap.
I keep a close watch
on the claws
of your hands,
but you know
how to hurt me
from a distance.

Three Things I Do Not Like toThree Things I Do Not Like to Admit
Lately, I wake up with the shape of your name
bent across my tongue. You live on coffee and
cigarettes, and I find this endearing. (I once
dated another man, years ago, who also lived on
coffee and cigarettes. I did not find him endearing.)
Perhaps it's because you are so recently a used-to-be that
I think of you this way: torso like a startled scarecrow,
your hair some bemused Batesian mimicry, mottled eyes,
clumps of copper. I wake up with the shape of your name
bent across my tongue, and I do not like to admit this.  
I fancy leaving my notebook in your truck to see if you
will flip through the half-thoughts scrawled sharply as
though with a scythe. To see if you will look at me
differently - watery, a little apprehensive, venomous.
The thing is, this is not about you so much as the idea
of you, my idea of you, all detuned and discordant. I
am obsessed with your pin-up tattoos, your incessant
coffee drinking, your hands like vices
 
tequilatequila, I had forgotten your
slow burn, silver tumble over tongue,
how you smolder a body from the inside.
Your guileless glissade down to the feet,
a liquored gypsy waltz, I sipped you straight,
Jalisco bottled under agave bloom.
tequila, you stole my breath in a
bar-room haze, falling fast into rhythm
and I couldn't keep up the pace, tequila,
you are just a lash of memories
I cannot quite remember,
soused with an emptiness I'd rather forget.

January 27th, 2014

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FuzzyHoser's avatar
Wonderful work, ladies. :heart: