Thursday, July 7, 2016

For X

Breathless, restless, spell sick.
Starved for touch - anorexic.
Damned, drowning consumer
of every whiff of rumor.
Are you, will you, would you?
What would I do should you
uncover my unseemly wanting
and put flesh to this whore boned haunting?
I hide my clinging in plain sight
crushed in the crowd at your side
just to brush against the burn of your sun -
symptoms of a secret love.

For Shay's prompt at Real Toads


Fireblossom said...

This should go in the devil's DSM. Really well done, unsparing, unsettling, remarkable.

brudberg said...

Oh I do like this... a secret in plain sigh(t).

Sherry Blue Sky said...


hedgewitch said...

I love the rhyme, and the eighth line especially--a taut and almost desperate sort of unspokenness to this.

Kerry O'Connor said...

This takes me back to the me of a former life.

Stacie Eirich said...

The last 3 lines really hit me here - the alliteration making the rhythm cuttingly quick -- LOVE the ending line. Thanks for sharing.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

For X? I'd rate it XXX! Seriously wonderful. Makes mine look like the cheap porn it is. Cheers!


You're a freaking genius. Your speaker is an anorexic, and her secret love is "forx/forks." People think self-starvers hate food. Yes and no. They hate feeling controlled by it. What they love/need is control. A fork can be a weapon, a device for stabbing rather than one for bringing edibles to the mouth.


Ooh, Forks also makes me think of Twilight and the way vampires eat ... or don't eat.

Sioux said...

"crushed in the crowd at your side
just to brush against the burn of your sun -"

Brilliant, with not a spare word to be found, as usual.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Nailed it! (Again.)

Anonymous said...

Title perfect, poem suffused with the perfumed miasma of the high school Harlequin.

Sara McNulty said...

"crushed in the crowd at your side" - one small example of the perfect language
and unsettling feeling of this poem.

ayala said...

Powerful! Nailed it.