Saturday, November 21, 2009

Little Things

Trying on his shoes she was surprised by how tight they fit. He walks bigger than he lives. Unboxing her crayons she began to color in. A long series of outlines. This paper. And a heavy press. She was noticeably vexed by the images showing through from the other side.

Trying on his shoes she thought god's feet would've been bigger. That his suit would be tailored to his size. As small as it is. Strange how tiny he was. And how everyone else looked so big.

Take me on your journey. In dry markers and empty pens. You haven't even tried. Just gave up at the apes. This suffocating heaven is not your best work.

We can still walk. With our feet naked in the dirt. No need for shoes to specify the paths we've taken.

We can still flee this stifling eden. The bite marks in the apple turning brown. We grew so much bigger than you expected. It's no wonder you don't want to be found.

He left his shoes behind. For her to walk in for a little while longer. She tried. Loosened all the laces. But it was no use. He had started out small. And was only shrinking.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The Failing Girth of Heaven

I slept til noon. Then still I slept some more. In a brittle bed of feathers and dust. The cellar in her thighs holding me hostage. For all the ways I had used the truth to my advantage.

We climbed tall buildings alone. To discover each other at the top. And jump off together. We bathed in the blood of the lamb while grooming the lions. The potency of real bedtime stories on the cusp of our lips. As we said only what was to be heard. In long stairways. Leading up to musty boxes. Filthy with too many of the precious things we've neglected.

I woke up. In his hungry arms. Certain he'd devour me. Like any god he expected all of me.

As with any paradise. It was only temporary.