Heather Feaga
Cotton
A lick
A love a taste Pursed lips Holding the kiss In the reds of her skin Her fingers gather Free Across his arm Over her hip Landscape wet Sweetened condensation Tight warm hills Shed their cotton Free Breathing in sun Melting her Waterfall sheer Dropped to him Measured pulse Each breath Free God
I've imagined you
Inside me Working wires Tugging bones Setting sirens high Your Hardened Surfaces I lay upon The scrape and peel Make me Yours Through me Bleeding together Stripped Layers deep Wrapped in all You Naked where you want The most of me Without question I like it With your words I come Being Stoked to life Yours Do to me The everything That makes me closer To god You forest
Bladed shadows
Whir through minutes Where skinned landscapes Drew beneath fingers Winter reigns glass dry And wives sleep Drifted down torn from Shallow goose flesh Rutted canyons Break with smiles Mud stained walls bleed The yet unknown Specks of change Rattling pockets Like subway tokens I stand In this old growth forest Tasting dew From mossed leavings Waiting for the sun heather
A wavered petal
Broken from a woody stem Purple splashes the browning Grave of earth Heather is a weed Railing against Love Maligned ice chatters Move north to quieter climes Her roots felt strong For once Never before Now Split in twos and threes The going deeper and Without the definition Of direction She spreads like a greener grass Fresh cut Severed Still a weed She wants to give in To summer heat But repetitive motion Of broken hearts Suspends her ascension to the Sun heart
Cross hatch
Penciled in Graphite Beats Sticky Black dust Mingled With each In And out Jumped skin And pushing Bones Stretched Spread Danced with Last breaths Littling air To bubbles The paper Thins |
Slivers
Like a sliver
I will sleep In the crevices of night Like the night I will slip Into her shallow openings Like her I will seep the colors of day Across the tips of my fingers Like fingers I will discover How to move you Freely Like freedom I will blindfold you And lick you clean Strangle
Maybe it's time
To hang the words From snow covered branches Listen to the sing Of stretched twine Writhe and swing Maybe it's time To choke air Out of words Until they lay Lifeless on my lap Fleshed Made minutely Of paper thread weaves Dissolve water To tears To stab at skin The ball point feels Rivulets down blue Shredded paper whites Spring Flowering in the weeds Petaled pigment twists air The braided rope Sweetly scented Strangling Her brothers adagio
The earth quakes
At the move of you Electric stretti A shifted staff Lifted to light Science fictioned in Tacet Between noise You The adagio Bring the still To the otherwise not ode to the flu (formerly "in the event of my death")Deep yawn
To Labored Breath The event Of My Death To die Listening to the Quick muffled whoosh Of tired organs Complex simplicity Chattered clatter Creaking floorboards My lungs heaving flesh To walls of thinking Wailing In my very head And I wonder Who will care For the things I care for My opus existence Sad waves Of color And thought Spindled fingers Gripping pencils To pens I tried To create Better puzzle pieces Never Fitting together I Scalpelling softest tissue Grafting to villagers To become monsters I tried My cells Divide to prisons Just scratching the surface Painted plastic Beneath nails My silver bullet Like currency for the rich Floating on borrowed blankets One stitch each I soak into the holes Tiny as pores And the futility of it all forward
bone crushing coo
small birds flutter the sky black wingspan stone dropped the feathered dirt still |
HurtNear-miss bullets
Striking light Metal spread Closed-eye confetti Legs reach right Bent akimbo To double Ss Calipered apart She broke Splintered home Filling From the inside out His gruesome Turn of calf Fair skin facade A wood lathe Stretched across his back Hydraulic strides Closing the gait To the give way This love Masked Kidnapped I used to look At his shoulders As he stretched Now the curl and sleep That bit of hurt Pushing breath In the moment Held by bones Shattered Glass
The window
Broke still Stopping light Bone crushed coo Small birds flutter the sky Black She crushed too End to end the thinker
Her feet
Curled awkwardly Beneath her knees Cross legged On soft bedding The bruises On her thighs Where elbows rest Holding her face Wet In her open hands left behind
Slithed snake’s
Molted skin Naked Left behind The motionless casings Away the blades To grow a new Unkind Transparent scales Tapped out plates Left behind Sun jostled To die Wind rustled To dry Each petal shaped Soft uneven edge The size of an eye Between these fingers Two Braids of cotton On spined needle Glinting light In and out sinew A tongue’s last breath These flowers Left behind Birthed from serpent skin Cherry blossoms Scatter the road Too pink snow Crunch beneath my feet Static lefts In angel shapes I miss her Now every morning
Three
Forty seven This Every morning Cold footed Winter will soon be over Shattered quiet never Sleeps Green glow From lit numbers Burn Washing white walls Just to see A spun fan Ceiling side down Estranged shadows trail A Vickers Wellington In constant fall Between snores Of the cat Love In electric skin Every morning The wait is ages
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