Holiday.

Status: Finished

Holiday.

Status: Finished

Holiday. Holiday.

Poem by: Alex Jose

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Poem by: Alex Jose

Details

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

in a hotel room, unchanging

Summary

in a hotel room, unchanging

Content

Submitted: November 02, 2010

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Content

Submitted: November 02, 2010

A A A

A A A


Holiday
 
Foreign noise.
High-pitched plate-fall of the alien bird.
All the cicada static and the hot night gale.
I shift in this hotel room
Stupid, despondent
tracing the small scaled thing
up the sunrise-theme curtains.
Like I might map my thoughts far from you.
I am but blue eyes and rough hair.
Forgo the rooted, red-wood dependence.
I announce firm-browed I’ll change.
Fell through my own azure
and tussle here intricately.
The wave-mirror, the sleepless three-winged fan
through the denseness,
my foetal breathless rasp and small shake
the strange birds out from the wet flower.
Sleep. 
Asia me out of my land and you still
turn me orchid-hued water.
Can’t help but crawl over my awakening,
the birth of fierceness
oh now I writhe cold into numbness
With the flumes of conversation.
I was crippling but I felt the colours pass
from Acers to me.
Disrobing perpetually
was steel, fast new ideas
and then I would pail-down the unearthed well of feeling.
But memory fails
when my pallid face derides a lack of colour.
All the awe I couldn’t handle.
You incredible dove. You dismountable dove.
Memory fails me.
Soul-jarring words, the skull-gripping
intimacy. Our heads touched.
I was a vine around your fanciful path in the kitchen
around trouble. Never the same never the same.
Now I’m a child’s thought-up glimpse
or the barely-there bird in this orient.
You’re a hard-wearing coat on my skin.
Half the world away and I’ve never felt so limited.
O I am precious, alone
I am china served at tea.
I sit on the bed. Delicate is all I can do.
In your thick black weight but your definite absence.
I make my mind light and care free
just small precise will-working.
Dropped my blue-white porcelain on the tiles,
man, china fell out at my feet. Bundled blue men
gill-less long koi, we’re un-drowned.
Try again.
 I’ll hit the floor at least once more tonight
in fine cobalt dinner-wear,
 trying to break out of you.
 


© Copyright 2016 Alex Jose. All rights reserved.

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