Poem – “A Curve in the Wrong Hand” – 1/1/2023

What burns? What turns? A curve,
leading me to hear these breaths.
Another dive, from a wrong
exit, upon this drive over a cliff
that held a waterfall, anyways,

though any way
would have done well,
if someone as familiar
warmed a drying emptiness.

A curve. A swerve,
drunk on being lost,
content with all that can cost
this heart, at another toss
into a fountain,
a lake, an ocean where vacant seats
keep silenced, lovelorn heartbeats.

An act, where someone’s pain
can be molded into nothingness
and gain. A word, to calm
a feverish heart. What turned this key?
What answers are there to believe?

I am in everyone’s, not merely your
misunderstood understanding.
For lust, to burn,
for kisses to turn deep breaths
into hyperventilation,

with a white canvas for words,
for paint, to describe, to picture flesh
nestled into randomness,
into a sobering caress.

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