Saturday, February 5, 2011

make-out sessions and cemetaries

              (what they were,
              were keys,)
              yellow keys with blood
              splattered on them,
              in an attempt to mesh with
              a part of apart from the rest.

so we faded
in and out of
shapeless insomnia
            swaying into

the night,
growing fond of
such things;
         the ripples and
         folds of

            coveting, and
                    drumming it's fingers
                    outside my eyes, like windows,

  ( what she saw, there,
   were insects,)
        cadavers, and maybe,

               faceless smiling hands, and
               a moan in the dark
                                                three times,
                                                at least).


wildchild said...

this is lovely writing; dark and beautiful at the same time

seth elkins said...

thank you.

Julia said...

There is much to like--dark and playful at the same time.

Three times! I'm impressed. ;-)

seth elkins said...

glad you like it.

waitressinpurgatory said...

the night,
growing fond of
such things;
the ripples and
folds of

I'm fond of this stanza, and 3 times more fond of the whole poem.

seth elkins said...