literature

Pas De Deux

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1nkl1ng's avatar
By
1nkl1ng
Published:
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Literature Text

our whirling's warped: no stage or ruby slippers
in this precarious performance- only skin
and sweating upper lips, deliberate movements
puppeteered by pleasure- and i'm a sucker
for a love song, sweetheart: but promise me
despite the polished surfaces of our tongues
that i will not shatter when the record slips
like pacing feet upon a slick floor, that i
will not be forgotten by your hands-

for you are home now, not simple heat- not space between the sheets, 
but the blankets that envelop me on nights when this city seems too cold- 
i've called you friend since we slowed to winter waltzes. and if you leave 
on that ever-stretching road that calls like my self from our shared pillows
for another chase- if you sail into the snowstorms to taste the softly falling
flakes like the delicacy of my mouth before the breach- take me with you,

you alluring thing- you, rhythm of swaying cigarette lighter flames
in the jaws of hoarse-voiced crooners- heed my gravity: when the 
tides of my wanting drag us back and back and in like helpless sand
into the most inscrutable depths, when the low strain of guitar that 
goes straight to your hips hums, when the music changes

but does not stop, sing to me of prufrock-
tell me what you mean, what you mean after all
this time spent spinning under unlit spotlights,
after the times these eyes have traced their lines
between protesting nebulae, inventing constellations
and mistaking satellites for polestars- name our
strange new world or tame it, claim the land 
that you have conquered with your sighs, discover
the raw red truths of this unquenchable desire-
this fleeting electricity of bedsheets-

i swore against the veil: take off yours
before it blinds us. open your eyes.
start counting your steps. 

This took several tries until I was satisfied. Written almost entirely on the bus, though it spanned across multiple trips. At first it was actually three separate poems, but I eventually realized that they could be combined and came up with something much longer the usual.

"Prufrock" is a reference of "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot, which is one of my favourite poems despite the fact that I have no idea what it really means.
© 2013 - 2024 1nkl1ng
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wordeea's avatar
wordeea
i really like this. the ending is just perfect.