Thursday, January 21, 2010
3987 El Prado Boulevard
The powdery murmur of footsteps hatched
And filmed over the house floors. A thinning stream
Of pattering toes. It smelled of musk,
Of perfume lifted off skin.
Trudging through the gloppy, toothed air,
The rooms grew full. Rooms that yawned
Unhinged drawers, left in their exhales.
Lift this house in parts: then toss them in light.
Open their beefy legs and cut through the sinew.
Collect them in swollen embraces. Serve them on platters,
Then rinse your mouth. Laughter will shoot from your littered belly.
Let it mingle with the low sound of wood. It will smell
Of piled scorching days and your eyes will slip to your soles.
Accept that only you are made of one piece. Your body
Forever knuckled under this house's muscular palms.