Girl, the things that get stuck in your head

Girl, the things that get stuck in your head

How many things you break
while drunk?

A sacrifice isn’t
unless it hurts.

A sacrificial glass
makes you sweep the floor at last.

*
Girl,
the things that get stuck in your head.

*
Stuck. Might as well
stay where we are; go inside
your overturned heart.
A family man, traffic jam, a fish stranded
by waves. I roll it gently;
set it swimming again.

*
Finding a bone as big as my own
with a bullet blown through
the idea of you.

Finding the matching foolish grin,
bleached white, losing
dignity to the moon.

*
Girl,
the things that get stuck in your head.

*
Things studied at great length
are made new. You shift the view, tell me
teeth are not bones, dreams
are nothing but a continuous search for you.

*
Web adrift,
attached to no thing.
A sexual spider, still
without strings.

Let me come to rest at you.
Still my wandering.
Let me try your strings. Things
get stuck in my head –
you, mostly.

 

 

 

Found bones

Bones are not teeth are not bones.

Advertisements

About sandrathibodeaux

Poet and Playwright
This entry was posted in Miscellaneous Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s