Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
                                                       and dress them in warm clothes again.
         How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
                   It's not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
         it's more like a song on a policeman's radio,
                 how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
                                                                                       to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that means
         we're inconsolable.
                               Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
                                                                Tell me we'll never get used to it.

Tags: Uncategorized

Total comments on this page: 1

How to read/write comments

Comments on specific paragraphs:

Click the icon to the right of a paragraph

  • If there are no prior comments there, a comment entry form will appear automatically
  • If there are already comments, you will see them and the form will be at the bottom of the thread

Comments on the page as a whole:

Click the icon to the right of the page title (works the same as paragraphs)

Comments

No comments yet.

Hannah Weber on whole page :

even though this sounds a bit emotional and silly..i’ve been on the verge of tears all day and this finally opened me up. It’s beautiful. Thank you Richard Siken.

July 1, 2008 12:19 am

Comments are by invitation only.