I do not know how you do it -
and so smoothly.
How you pull it off so gracefully like the blooming
of spring flowers, and right under my nose.
O such artful subtleness.
You pull it off the same way you pull at my dead locks,
which I dipped in sunshine to strategically
give off sweet senses of purity - innocence.
I do not know how you can be as warm as loving flesh,
almost human-like.
And quickly, calmly, like a night snake in the Garden of Eden,
you become simply an entity -
so free that I cannot capture you with
the frail fingers that for so long tightly grasped the souls of
young boys and skittish-like men.
You thought I was not paying attention to you -
but I have marked your every transformation in my school journals.
Every time you go from branch to branch.
Every time your smile brightens and fades.
That was then.
As omniscient a little girl I am,
you are making it harder for me to keep my tabs now.
I am not accustomed to being controlled, confused -
but I must take it now.
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow until your metallic love engulfs my tar black insides.
I need it now.
I will never tie knots nor nooses again so long as your hands are there.
***
Kerrin Shinners is a student living just outside of Boston MA. Her main writing influences are Allen Ginsberg and Jim Morrison.
