Leveler Poetry Journal
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pressing spirals

 

sure this skin is like ‘i don’t even know how to begin’

the roads to my arteries all mudpath / all sillyputty

i trafficjam inside myself / name you mountain

and you whisper ‘well come on in’ / coo flashlights

in my blackout / my kneecaps mouthing / ‘yes please

i want that’ / still stuck / still muffled and mumbled

in my own snowdrift / my own pinball kind of think

my shaking storm hands / my forest tongue / you tell me

protection spell / language me layercake / swear a tiny god

must be in each of your thumbs / you pressing spirals

to my ears / they sound of blanket / of acceptance draped

on shoulders / so tonight / so tonight in my chest / we push

this wagon / this wheeled stovepan full of longing / we kiss

it with lips downhill / lose it somewhere in the river / we two

jawlines / together / we chew on our wanted winter.




John Mortara