Blood in my water

Forgive me if I fail to smile
At your barely-nodded greeting
My mouth is full of cotton
Wound stitched shut
With a blunt needle
And I must hide my teeth
Lest the blood pour forth
From these scars


Bobbing for pips

I am approaching the threshold of my grief
That dismal dawn where words break –
Fast over stale feelings
Like waves on a rock-ridden shore.
This stilled tongue tunes no trills for sorrow,
Sigh-chapped lips, no plosive feasts
But my ragged pen thirsts
For consonants, vowels
Forming words, eyes closed,
Half-asleep, I drift,
Tossed upon the foam
As one who drowns for air
And breathes only memory.