Monday, June 13, 2011

precious (anti)bodies.

i seem to cough you out in fits
heart asbestos coughs
long minutes filled with interrupted silence and hacking, from deep inside
shaking you out, little
by little
girl, little girl, damaged and damaging
ravished and ravishing
my tuberculosis pulse beating slow, fast, slow, beads of sweat zig-zagging their way
slowly across my forehead
I can still feel you in my hands
your hair in my fingers
and the coughing starts again
I look in my palms to a bloody mist, wipe it on my sides
use my balance and my right leg to rise up
stand for a minute as if to say, "see? I'm not done yet"
but the wobbling comes back and soon
I'm back on my knees again, coughing returning in huge, eruptive waves
until my ribcage hurts and my brain is sick of your name
I never thought you'd be this
like a cancer to me
you irresponsible little girl, don't you know how contagious you are
how your clothes fit your form so well
how when we kissed, colors got brighter and all sound fell away
a guy like me,
I have no immune system
for a gorgeous disease such as yourself