EREBUS

I come from chaos and earth and eros.

At night, I put honey under my tongue
I think it’s sweet and it makes me say less
Sticky tongues rarely make trouble
I’ll show my teeth instead
 
I like my teeth, I’d like to keep them
I like my skin, wrinkles make me nervous
I’m a good girl, I don’t drink, I don’t smoke
I like my teeth, I’d like to keep them
 
In the dead of silence, I keep my noise close
I say I won’t turn back but then I just might
I come from Chaos’ deepest crevices
I will return.

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decided to walk to the supermarket
in need of some fruit and butter
passed by two coffee places
stopped at the one with the golden retriever at the door

same coffee served in different cups
i can't drink any more
can't hold the cups
my hands are just full of words

breeze moving the hairs on my neck
sun behind clouds makes me think there's something wrong with my vision
something new
i collect pieces of my walk in my book

i mistake the asparagus for something else
i laugh at my self
sometimes you need to laugh at yourself
i bought some of the asparagus

now walking back i can't remember
which street it was
the left the right the 4th the 5th
it's been getting difficult to distinguish

facts are never considerate of memory
i have come to understand
if you erase the past it is still there
gripping you with real images and impressions

the street was
how do i say this without sounding existential
the street was empty yet the air was full
i remember that

memory plays tricks on me
facts swoop in to save the day
remind me of the tangerines i did not buy
oops have to turn back again

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scents

i connect scents like a draw-by-numbers,

with moments and memories
like when you look at film negatives and

you can vaguely see - you can vaguely remember 

the moment.

blueberries on porridge is march
peaches in the sand is summer picnics
i go back to
landscapes of scents i forgot i owned

maybe i want to bottle these up 

and make perfumes.
i'd watch people smell them, i'd
notice the flare of their nostrils.

eager to know me.

i see you smelling my memory bottles
box fresh scents, exposed to you.
i hope you find something you like because
i will lend it to you, just as i am.

memories preserved.

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there's a bee in the kitchen

i turn pages and my brain is just words
(my hands feel dirty, this book is dusty)
i have my feet up on the blue table
toes frying in the sun from the kitchen window
my mother would be angry but
maybe later i'll tell her a story from my book
it smells like clementines
(i had some earlier)
so i hope that's okay
(it's their season)

but then i hear the unmistakable sound
the infamous buzzing of a winged player
she's here to distract me from the pages
to make me turn my head away
cause a commotion

there's a bee in the kitchen

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