GREG BRAQUET

Letting Blood Work

the moment

to boil

to pounce coldly

to flash and chill

to intoxicate the spine

between beats and blinks

with organs and muscles flexed

smothering at birth in mortal kisses

staining forever

stamping the flavor as instinct

running dark-rose red over

battle grounds

common ground

burial grounds

a mover and shaker

of instant manhood

of lost maidenhead

of spilt confession

  the under-the-skin ghost

chants to

the liquid chord mother

“to bleed or not to bleed”

tremors

currents

blue vein roads

leading back to

the moment

Anniversary

I hammered our 20 year union into a needle, wove our dry rot vows into a workable thread, and sewed your lips shut like a mummy; and yet, you still mumble acidic murmurs from both sides of your scarecrow mouth. Does my flesh feel like wet straw as well? How do you manage it from deep within my castle? As bride you quickened my groomed heart. Now those same heartbeats are mere detours from death.

<<< l >>>

SENTINEL POETRY (ONLINE) #31, JUNE 2005. ISSN 1479-425X