John Coltrane watercolor by Maggie Umber, suggested by @bluemonkwrites and @ochregerde


dear john: we are trying
to hold a peace that crumbled
like dead leaves from months ago
i stare out windows
from my cliched cave
just so i can remember the direction
the sun once was
it’s cold in my office
and the energy it takes
to make another cup
sits in my pocket
in case i need to dodge a bullet

something tells me
that as it was for you
the early sleep is coming

until then
i run through the 12 keys
of the love supreme motif
trying despite this twisted spine
to stretch and flex against
the demons of dependence and noonday

meet me john
in the spaces between
confusion and resignation
and sing a psalm for us

–Michael Neal Morris @bluemonkwrites

this is just like the last time. with the red
and our bodies like roadkill laid out on the tiles — ?

I whispered “don’t be afraid” into your spine
to the smell of copper, bleach and lavender.

you flickered like the naked lightbulb, so
maybe only saints get to tell fear when
                                                           to hide.

                         I’m not that.

Yves Olade, from “Roadkill”, in Flinch!

Full Disclosure

When I fall for you, the passion
we hold between us will be
the devouring kind. A tormenting
tempest tethering souls together
with a force fit to warp steel. Creation
implicit between the lashes of a wink
or stare like eyelids cover tiny infinities.

Our love will smell like skinned knees
and grass stains and the bindings
of old books. I will keep your heart
thick in my throat, every whisper
a sunset that echoes the longing
the surf feels for the shore.

When I fall for you, my
submission to you will be
the playful kind. A teasing
triumph taken in time, a two-step
too close to tripping to be grace-
ful. Admiration of bruises that break
like constellations against a night
made flesh.

Our fever will taste like playgrounds
and Thursdays and double-dog
dares. I will keep your tongue
tucked behind my ear, every syllable
shivering down and down my spine
to vibrate secrets into sonnets.

When I fall for you, our life will be
the adventuring kind. A treasure trove
of temptations bled through salty
whimpers. Such exquisite torture,
the static of daydreams. Delicacies
to break and mend, break and mend,
break and mend.

Our living will feel like thunderstorms
and comets and godliness, when I fall
for you. If I fall for you ever,
or at all.

© 2017 by Jennifer R.R. Mueller