The stairs of bookshelves that line my room | Alesha Suydam

impose upon me
histories upon histories
supine details
malice
bound by thread and paper

force language down my throat
that i may choke on verbs and
conjugation
drown in letters and
punctuation
and finally gain my breath between
italics and exclamation

points.

do not let this incense burn your
sacred decomposition.

let me climb you
and rest in your spine

my hand in
your hand opening and closing
in mine

your head in my lap
and contentment
folded in your mouth


Taken from the 2007 issue of The Wire Harp.