#poem for next wk's workshop... please shoot suggestions/ideas my way (text below bc #lefty)
blowing daffodils by jace rose
brown leaves on wet blue road, you were the last
to press the gas, the least to hold it. jazz
swings pendulum to blue in green, that miles
hit they play inbetween the bandaid aisles
and cool sock piles with dinosaur designs,
they’re in your eyes: the t-rex anger brines,
velociraptor smile holds hungry bites.
you hate the sound i make when you’re close-eyed
and trying to pretend i’m something more
than what you saw behind your amber pour.
the sound sounds like conveyor belts inside
a rubber plant that helps a girl feel like
a metal arm, waist, brain that’s fallow, dry
with indents, holes, and welts that follow thighs.
an oily little fingerprint can trace
the ghost bouquet you strangled with shoelace
while blowing every bit out in the shower
i think i heard you whispering: wishflower
