New Poems
by Vince O'Connor

Delirium

 

cage me

in a frame

stroking oil

onto parchment

 

transform me into

stopped time

a gentle whisper

in an empty room

 

in the hegemony of

your touch

immerse your fingers

in my heart.

 

then breach my parapets

with the onslaught of your eyes

the cinders in your fingers

the compulsion in your soul.

 

 

 

 

 

Photographs

 

This is not a photograph

of you

 

just a random

face that came

with the frame who won’t

bruise me

while trying to love me.

 

The real photographs are hidden

 

a meager diet of grabbed moments

showing us surviving on

brief phone calls

and shadowy

bedtime encounters

 

cohabiting

will o' the wisps

that may as well have lived

on separate continents.

 

One day I’ll start a new story

a better story

and when I do

I’ll revisit these images

and they will heal more

than

they hurt.

 

 

 

 

To Thine Own Self Be True

 

I don’t fear

 

tangled, matted hair

   sweat-slicked skin

      disheveled bones

 

I don’t require

 

tummy-tucked abs

   white capped teeth

      a well-defined ass

     

I will always

 

embrace your reality

   expel your loneliness

      fill your emptiness

 

show you’re more

than

a benefit package

 

 

Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.