Mina Lee

United States

Just a dreamer with too many metaphors.

Message to Readers

And it is done <3

A Work in Progress

August 18, 2015

The times I try to write him down
  as a poem
My fingers try to remember how to stop;
  fabricate his hand in mine,
do nothing more.

Rather, smear writing,
  try to call it
scatter shards of soft skin
  under baggy eyes,
and draw lines in the confetti--

We allow our toes to touch,

Permissible necessities
   allow us reminiscence,

He is not a complete thought.
Abridge him to avoid details,
   but have the audacity to attempt
at attaching him to singularities

and unripe,

The smell of his sweatshirt;
  watered-down coffee,
let it linger,
but not the sharp curve of his collarbones;
  carve him from the small of his back
then hide him.

Long and thin fingers
    holding vertebrae together,
and the taste of salt in wide eyes;
    trying to avoid confronting

but not the deep husk
   in his voice-
gravel scrapes

from tripping: safely.

I cannot dream him whole,
A fragment to me,
rather, by me;

write him only
  as vague metaphors,
wavering- I cannot

write more.

Denouement leaves him
as a work in progress:



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