August 30, 2010

goodnight moon, shine

by Atti?

she wore wood grain across her forehead
and the midnight sky went fishing in her eyes for the twinkle
that could splinter the owls hoot in two

a spine that curled like the neck of a harp around her labor
she strummed the roots of the thicket
and washed away the sun
across the basin for days on end
until the vines in her hair grew into the flood

and her beauty turned to music
that sank the devil to his knees and quelled the seas
my siren sang with her wood grain
in knots

i took swigs off moonshine jugs
and when my lips made love to open drums
my drunken bass lines roughed her up

we made love
sometimes music, sometimes she said no
i never once forgot the nature of her beauty
but just got too drunk to see it glow.

she stopped singing songs
and the devil started dancing the like to my whiskey bass lines
in the full moon of the night
the country rumbled in my gut
the milk weed buckled as i huffed and puffed..
and she just watched
as i drank away all the beauty she'd become.

3 comments:

Less Is More said...

amazing. you have such a unique rhythm..

Anonymous said...

Wow all I can say is that you are a great writer! Where can I contact you if I want to hire you?

atti? said...

robertjosephdb@gmail.com