Your Heavy Body
Your Heavy Body
By Michael Cuglietta
I haven’t smoked a cigarette
in five days
I can breathe deeply
without pain in my chest
I can think clearly
without fog in my head
I can taste
every glass of wine
pick out the intricate flavors
I can hear you now
you sound tired
I don’t want you
missing any of your rest
I can feel you now
run my tongue
along your scars
it’s no secret
I know all about you
how you pretend to be
run down
like nothing matters
how you pretend not to hear me
when I say how pretty
you could be
how you tell me you’re too tired
when all you want is sex
I can taste
the cold sore medication
caked on-top
of your dried out lips
I can taste
the fermented grapes
rotting overnight in your mouth
I’ve been warned about
morning breath
but kissed you anyway
I’ve been told how skinny you are
but still
my arm has fallen asleep
underneath the weight
of your heavy body
I’ve been warned about
morning breath
but kissed you anyway
I’ve been told how skinny you are
but still
my arm has fallen asleep
underneath the weight
of your heavy body
I think you need to bring this into the present tense – “kiss” instead of “kissed”, “falls” instead of “has fallen” – to match the rest of the poem. But otherwise? Pretty good stuff.
i like the honesty in the voice here. while its not that prolific or enlightening it has a reality to it that is easy to digest.