this museum: one more artifact lost in a past reflection two eyes peer past you me glazed over a pair of perfectly freckled fingers just out of reach glass is thin protection for a purpose lost to memory - Rachel Gilliatt
You watch me sprout from the seaweed tasting the strawberries of my hair taunting the tongue to wilt at the sight of a soggy footprint buried beneath the beach. Five even puncture wounds cemented to your bullet proof chest, foaming at the rims the coral of this tide pool. From this tomb of tangles I see your dust pruning in the water. I speak to you the red rubber words of my dilated dimples, the undercurrent flavour of this artificial kiss. - Rachel Gilliatt
please stand back of the yellow line: our blender broke in the bottom of a barrel the closed closet door - a yellow line breached for a dust pan pretend it's the Raggedy-Anne doll being dragged by her hair not you hide her under the bed hide-and-no-go-seek - it's mom's turn to change the diapers anyway dinner time - game over wipe the dust from Anne's hair and creep out to go hug daddydave he lies with 'hello' her lie's in her eyes (like the first day of school) the cue: "we have to go talk" they make a pit-stop in the closet, daddydave's coughing chokes the sloppy sound of kisses (gross) they leave the closed closet door behind muffling their talk with a radio. a Bullwinkle show later, they return in new clothes finished the dishes to watch my cartoons a blender roars in the background: GET THE FUCK OUT cold steps under a street lamp - or was it just cement next to the washing machine? the rolling finger hills embedded in my skin are on fire Anne - so his bum - Bitch damn doll didn't change the diapers please stand back of the yellow line: our blender broke in the bottom - in the bottom of she woke up one day and cleaned the closet in 12 steps 28 days and half a year: she learned to be an adult - I a child? she traded time for colourful key tags - daddydave got his for free and my brothers' custody please stand back of the yellow line: our blender broke from here to vancouver - Rachel Gilliatt
will we ever see through the ripples to our toes: thousands of be-bodies sculpting this bed too deep to drain so we gorge swollen in this drought and forget the taste of water yet skip stones like shrapnel across the channel where hop scotching children chant 'row, row, row your...' and they soak up the rapid current wondering what song to sing next? - Rachel Gilliatt originally posted November 26, 2012
you drive the beetle right out, lady leafy earrings tease your scarf from down under as you lace my coffee with pesticide your side of the table is cool but you wear wide-rimmed sunglasses in the shade like hipsters do with their grasshopper leggings exposed i still like the song though i wonder if i bought your perfume would the smell of old olives infest my memory - like piles of rot polka dotting the weave of my garden gloves you could never pull off you weed etiquette but miss daisies and now i bag all that is left - surface deep - Rachel Gilliatt
All about Poetry: Sublime, Ridiculous, Useful
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.