Tuesday, December 20, 2011

your medicine is faith and your flesh, divine.

She kisses you like a fire hydrant
and throws you across the room,
against walls, onto floors, into couch cushions, down staircases,
finally reaching the basement,
crunching concrete and cracking foundation.

she hurls you from unfinished lumber and cement ceiling
up toward the sun,
breaking upward through each of the house's three floors,
bracing beams and splitting floorboards,
leaving broken lights and bruised limbs

until you hit the sky and the clouds part,
and that close to heaven,
you pray that you'll never come down.

and then:
you see the sun.

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