Friday, August 29, 2014

Mimi and Mona - Poetry: Past the Point of Poetry

Mimi Wolske
August 29, 2014
All Rights Reserved

I did not anticipate you...
The smell of you in my hair
When it's time for either of us to leave.
Miles and miles between us,
Measurable by fuel, passports, barbed wire.
I have whispered your name in my sleep,
The emptiness next to me holding it
For months until parallel lines
Cross our paths -- walking towards you,
You running alongside me,
Charting you in the stars
All summer, anticipating something
I only name when we're finally together
You could write it in my blood that
This is only the middle of a very long story.
We kiss as if it's fate;
We can't stop convincing ourselves it isn't.
I don't cling to you -- not my style,
But I think we spend to many nights
Trying to force ourselves into the cracks
Of the floorboards and coming up
Rootless when our nights are spent apart.
I did not pray for this.
Time is never entirely erased...
We're part of each other,
Made of the same stuff as war criminals,
As Mount Everest,
As the last person we kissed with any emotion.
You press your emotion into me
On lazy mornings at the lake,
Or on road trips.
I press mine into you with every word I write.
When we part,
I forget how to navigate through normal life,
Rushing headlong into it, perfectly careless
As Lupus' girl playing in the snow.
We are on a mission...laughing,
Talking, fingers intertwined.
You said it first. "Try it...just see how it feels."
And it felt like my insides were burning,
Like my heart was on fire,
Like I could feel every sensation to the core of me...
You knew I'd like it.
I still like it.
Professions of love on the phone
At two a.m. in the morning
Are like arithmetic...
Statistically ending in bed
Past the point of poetry.

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