Poem For B. by James Diaz

Live a house inside my bones
live with bones inside my sleep
don’t tap your fingers
eat the walls
cringe cause names are awkward
and when you say each, love is murdered

having to put my foot into the stain
smoking in sad motels with the lights off
skeleton porn
and race horse monuments
in the darkness in the tired rise of life
go away

one of these moments
held close to recall
but the body doesn’t remember anything
of its own movements
recollections for the fire
fire for the soul
you don’t seek much
blistered snow
road maps
caffeine on your toe nails

having to put life behind you
your mouth where your words are
echoed in empty subways
how I had a dream B,
and you weren’t so cute in your madness and Benzedrine
out spent
moments where the “It“ strove for perfection
tired sidewalks
ocean where my heart hangs its erection on a nail
no sleep
the nerve is endless…

James Diaz

James Diaz lives in New York. You can find more of his writings, if you are so inclined, in Cheap Pop Lit, Ditch, Pismire, Collective Exile, and The Idiom.


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