it is a sweetened
vessel of milk scattered
across your lips with
no care for nourishment,
perfectly cold and heavy
on your pucker of red skin,
but the drip of your blood
is heavy enough to cloud
the film you wrap
your mind inside.

and still you search
with your fat, slap tongue
for each drop, eyes fluttering,
lungs in a spasm, you
want to drink from the
sky, a pitcher full of
specks of milk, all made
for your throat and chest,
to slow the shaking,
to dilate your pupils.

08/06/2009

Author's Note: The first day back is almost always the hardest.

Posted on 08/06/2009
Copyright © 2010 Jeremy Magee