Letters for Loose Handshakes and Fumbled Formalities
Dear Stranger,
My hand grasps yours confidently,
knuckles molded to your foreign form,
you do not know how they shake.
Tremble.
You are not accustomed to bitten nails,
which rather, should be bitten tongues,
such words
carnivorous
still ripping conquered flesh,
which such sentences had once depended upon.
The lethal mastication
Dear Stranger,
Sometimes I mean it.
sometimes I strategize my syntax,
as if commas could construct the stronger
shell
of a once feeble body,
the only thing I'll allow you
to touch.
Dear Stranger,
forgive me, when I fear I have no
foundation,
my unlaced shoes present dishonesty,
and there are days when I can feel a hollowness in my
bones.
Dear Stranger,
I will admit I often prefer it this way.
My Dear Stranger,
There will be days, however,
I dance on my toes
and lips do not quiver,
silhouettes of yesterdays
germinate
on the tips of tongues.
Pens paint ink upon papers
vowels as visuals
the world is
vibrant.
Dear Stranger,
I will admit I often prefer it this way.