Frank

push my fingers through to
find which words got caught;
like letters on tonsils and
secrets hiding behind wisdom teeth,
all your pleasant speak is
good as lost in the notches
of your spine.

Leg of Lamb

The silent type.
Let actions speak
louder than day old verbs
hanging to dry.
The explicits,
let them rot
on my tongue,
but I’ll show my teeth.
A sailor's song.

Polite

Lately I'm without.
Lost in a mind that's not my own.
Wet eyelids.
I listen in the background.

Ladykiller

Every bone was black,
muscle too.
Tongue stretched from
saying everything ears wanted.
Speech so dark,
said she saw my insides.
Her words, cursed with specific intent,
hollowed me out.

She stole my breath
and wouldn’t give it back.

Meaning

I need to find something, maybe meaning.
The lump in my throat
was speaking leagues again.
I swallowed hard enough for both of us.
Relating all too well to rain,
she washed away.
No words remained.

I wanted her to be my meaning.