Skip to main content

Addiction


 
 

Nothing eloquent in the tobacco
stains that will never resemble
sumptuous berry rubies ripening
clean on the branch, 
his fingers, like stubs,
burnt bumblebees crushed.

I bury my chin in his beard
harsh smoke, stiff scaffolding.

Parody in longing for a brittle touch.
Hideous proximity to the addiction.
Song of the shortened life.
Love of the kick.
Excerpted from The Shape of Caught Water
available from Red Mountain Press
or directly from the author: covelli@cybermesa.com

http://redmountainpress.us/

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Vessel

Inside I imagine puckered cups of butter   cookies nested    in paper that  releases a sigh   But instead there may be fiction   within   wishes never reciprocated   Playbill of redundant arguments   One black glove    found fraying   This vessel on an emptied  table   solo     temptation is labeled with  another’s name   Guarded initials as if carved in melting snow     A tool unsuited  to the task of   prying open  Not yet valentine
8 comments
Read more

Shameless Early Promotion

My poetry book, The Fiction of Stillness, is available for pre-order now on Barnes and Noble. Official release date August 1st, 2024. Here's a taste: ... The table is smooth and round              symmetric         The chairs are haphazardly placed at the end of this day      I have breast cancer I say into the receiver   [communities must] pool resources   How to produce the sounds of the imaging                report into sentences that resonate with months of postponement weighty contrast on my right side   computing and comparing IM ratios for greater insight                          not sufficient to prove the efficacy of screening   ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Grit and Sunlight

What springs up: insistence in this persistent                                                 mother of mine (still breathing) Even busy ashes     from a rescued urn float up reconstituted as morning dew   She unfolds her tendril arms from shadow     (shaking just five days ago as if in temporary surrender)   (that moment when I am less certain of her longevity) this woman ever present     (anyone’s mother)    aging    when even the most spindly clover of her fragile skin                         captures the sunrise light like   anticipation’s shower   ...
Post a Comment
Read more