You ask for a poem

I handed you a piece of my tongue

You look at me as if I am not enough

Pushed me towards a farther shore, nude 

As if all that I give are impenetrable scars 


You ask for my name

I told you how old I am

You smeared my sweet smile on your face

Entreated me to go back to the drawing table

And comprehend how it is to pick the crayons


Darling, face me with your truth

Do you think I am not abundant

That my vigor has no meat around them

Do you sink me in a bowl with other fishes

And found out that I am capable of drowning,

Easy, soft, silent to your dismay?


You ask for my melody

I offered you a blade of my grass

Each time I give you a sliver of me

You make it feel as if I am difficult with giving?


You face me with your backbone

As if my tongue couldn’t tailor images

As if my hands haven’t gathered enough,

Sticks to light your unwilling, kerosene-less fire

Funny, I thought we were twin planets

Is this fire I can offer not enough? 


Now, I whimper

Without urge in my name

A bird with a broken wing I might be

But, let’s come back to the drawing board

You say I must stretch skyward from now on

So I mirror you above and beneath, must I?


But thank you

For the warm socks, you promise to give

I am not angry, I am not hurt, it’s just that

Moments like these make me miss home

And to wonder why I chase the things I chase


I’ve been here, at this same juncture

Wound me with your blade of forfeiture

This boy, he’s been dreary many a time, yes

He will slumber, roam like a penny, far, wider 

He would gather every ruin and every courage

And climb your borders again.