09/16/2010
Fossils
and the Man in the Mist
is taking your seen through
Face (The Jersey Fog,
with all the light)
out of every frame, your
(you were a fingers
snapshot -- ) that gleam, don't you
agree?
no time
(no more) and every flower was
for pet names, dried, every eye
not kept
no pet in a caged face,
Now. Tigers,
sleeping so long
but you don't look like those (softly)
other hicks,
cackling, Cackled in the They look much
face of me the same.
You
were
pulling a body, your body -- addicted
to me to my smell she smelled
like Cedar trees, she smelled
Have Fun Smelling like sheets, like me
Nothing, she said, quickly like each and every
one finger,
beckoning excitedly,
she screamed, fossils -- meant to be
opening dried flowers,
pressed in to me were the stains permanent,
did you show them to me, did the leaves lose
all color, did
your only scene lose its only meaning?
and the pressed-heat,
my smell crashed and window shattered,
Did you watch the first words
languish Did you shove all the dead
flowers in Each Ear Did you
burn the
Bite Again
Would you turn the walls
into me would you hear
Oh, how we the click of my feet
deign and remember
to be the each and every sink
same. would you feel an innocent
window pane scream writhing
in too many songs sung too late,
singing --
----------
Good move, petty Child
Good move,
petty Child --
seeing the Rope in
everything it hangs down solid
Someone's idea of
the lie strong enough to
Kill You,
(strong enough
to
Climb) A Willow Leaf,
tired and whisperingtiredofmissing floating on
The Lie
you Chose your breeze,
so softly didn't
learning you?
writingdowneveryword
Tell me Again, please (needing)
just how Your West was won.
crying (I like Our strong hands
in your sleep, writhing,
you took that beautiful
suit (I guess) she breathed.
splayed (fingers) out and Baby, Welcome To
the Dawn)
It's tired and Whispering It's
missing (The Lie)
soft, far away,
does it still Sound Like?
I Can Never need it she whispered how
Fetching cool water do you know what it sounds like
growing the Cement and
quick-dried
the willow and the Cedar -- You always poured so
quick
Did She ever fire
that And you always spoke so
Roman standing slowly,
Candle akimbo wrapped in sure of any decision
my smell and Let's Turn to
the walls We can always pour More Cement.
all my sheets
fingers grown so Making holes with all the
senses I had
strong, splayed out and left, and you were
that belly
missing daddy's Shoulder,
kissing Me instead.
_______________________\
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A Tuscaloosa, Alabama native, Will Roane is currently studying moving pictures and rocks at Oberlin College in Ohio. He is co-Editor-in-Chief of The Oberlin Review and spent the past summer learning that cooking eggs over-easy is not that easy. He just started a blog at [http://thewillyworld.tumblr.com/].
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