you walk through my dreams holding
my pain in your hands like coals
your flesh peels back burning I
lay down beside you my skin
peeled back I turn the knife onmyself you peel my fingers
back you take it from me and
still I kill you in my dreams
because you are there (because
he is not) and because Ibelieve you are immortal
and cannot be harmed even
though I know that every-
thing dies especially love
especially loving me
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@WATERMARK |A Poet's Notebook
- Disclaimer
Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.
In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.
It is likely to be -- it is best if it is -- a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.
A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think -- but it is not necessarily biographical.
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