The weight of Infatuation

Our heart is a stack of bricks, we hand back and forth,

a pulsing, unintentional rhythm, paced to build

a cozy home, or a retaining wall.


Face to face, we sit, clutching

generic porcelain mugs,

marking our bodies like price tags.


We share a triangle pastry

blotched in red corn syrup

which we agree is fruit.

To love God is to love each other, you say,

ripping a piece to save.

I bite in a corner to taste,

Loving each other means loving God?


We leave, satisfied by starch,

thoughtless about the crumb trail we leave behind.


Fasten seatbelts, prepare

for separate houses.

Busy crossroads tiring rubber, friction. Yellow,



Is it time or intention that makes green? Design?


Staring at the stop sign, shift

in your passenger seat, feel

yourself stick, suspended

by his sedan.

Night after night


Orion’s belt


stiff yellow bodies


holding the heat of space.


About Faye

I blog for 5 sites.
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