Why Are You Constantly
it's hard to see the screen with all these ghosts\the sea anemones
make a kissing sound when they let go of your fingers
Pigeon. Seagull. Pigeon. Robin.
arms the color of pickled pigs in a jar
threatening to jump off a window ledge into a tidal pool
your smile constantly erases itself
hair wafts into my eyes, sticks to my lipstick
the wind as your green curtains skim the ceiling
is that a paw or hoof on my face/is that a burlap
sack or boat on my windowsill
so hot you sit on the floor and pant, dog-like
your psychiatrist is afraid and asks me to sit next to him
Seagull. Grackle. Doorknob.
boiling water seeps through an orange pekoe teabag
on the walls, squares of bright yellow where photos of flowers and elephants hung
the hum of flies, shadows or burn marks in your bedroom
the newspaper lining your cage
my thumb smoothing your eyebrows the color of commas
the negative space of your forehead
why are you constantly comparing everything
to animals/ you ask me
So I finally followed one of Ilya's suggestions and did a poem. Perhaps I should say "wrote"? Anyway, let me know what you think about the last line -- should I cut out, you asked me?
Also, does the title work?
If you're interested, I'll let you know the technique I used to make this.