Swimming with the Dolphins

 

(The Wrist of Robert Beveridge)

—Poetry by Robert Beveridge, Akron, OH

—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain

EMPIRICAL

Notice the wick
for without it
the candle could not burn

light
blazes
down

from these ugly electric
lamps

maybe
these tungsten wicks
will explode
and plunge us
into naught
but candlelight

 

 

 

 

DROP THE MIC

if you sing
at the party
drinks will
be poured
for you
by suitors
you have
never met
before

if you do
not sing
at the party
you will
be invited
to the next
one

 

 

 

 

STRAIGHTENING

lips under mine
close enough to touch
breath exchanged
your shirt open
to the waist, curls
spill down over you
your arms around
my neck, mine grip
your sides

you asked if I like
your hair better straight
I twined one curl
around a finger
and pressed my tongue
to yours

 

 

 

 

NIGHTGOWN
       for Rhonda Lynn Youssef

I kept your nightgown
next to me last night,

your perfume, sweat, our sex
before you went to work, waited

for you to come home,
your scent in my dreams.

 

 

 

 

CARMINE

your eyes
redden
it drifts
into eternal
blood
sleep

 

 

 

 

SLEEP

I see your fear
I see the waves of reddened oceans
break on your shore
needles ringed with dirt
and scarred
with the tracks
of a violet lover

touch the leather of lust
to your pale scarred throat
skim that hard skin
with your lips of need
cry at the beauty
of your pale blood

those burnt flowers
the ghosts of lovers past
call to you:

sleep, sleep
sleep, sleep

you watch these dolphins wash
helpless onto shore
infected and scarred
with the tracks
of violet needles

dirty dolphins wash
onto your shore
covered in the blood of sunset
as you cry one single tear

sleep, sleep
sleep, sleep

where were the days
when you swam with the dolphins
free and wild
naked before the sunset
braving the bitter cold

of this endless frosted night?
Do you remember the dolphins?

Those narcotic lovers tell you
drift into our arms
give up your awareness
you can sleep, sleep
dream of those dolphins
and sleep, sleep

look at them
dead on your shore
in the violet sleep of sunset

even as they tempt you
you know
that you can never dream
of those dolphins again

I see your fear
I see the waves of oceans red
with dolphins' blood

turn away from those red oceans
turn away from those narcotic shores
so many other oceans wait
cry no longer
at the beauty
of your pale scarred blood
fear no longer

wake, wake

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

DAYBREAK
—Robert Beveridge

immense
light
diffused
through rain

___________________

Today's new visitor to the Kitchen, Robert Beveridge, makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH), with recent/upcoming appearances in MockingOwl Roost, South Broadway Ghost Society, and Commo, among others. Welcome to the Kitchen, Robert, and don’t be a stranger!

___________________

—Medusa

 

Robert Beveridge

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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