Tuesday, October 13, 2015

ceci n'est pas panique

occasionally I find myself combatting a vampire —
an invidious, two-tongued, honey-tongued, languid, loving vampire —
whose drawl slips into my veins 
to swirl in mini rings until
chaos
feeds my heart 
and my body compresses 
evading the sneaky caresses of  
pure panic 
bumping up against
liquid envy. 

I cave, 
but the lips are paper thin.

I would much rather 
rest 
in the pause: