Tuesday, March 13, 2012

contraband



there is contraband
on my tongue
the taste
of cigarette on my mind -
not all space is equal, squared
the leveling of our soul is weighed
unfair -
degrees of reference left
unkempt

i walk cement you have
laid, crawl the cracks you
lie between - there lives the mark
of memory made - a world
you shared with me

the tattoo i wear is permanent
internal - covered by my skin in printed sight -a world
to bright to feel its flame

i drink (drunk) on the love
you gave to me - addicted deep
to loves memory- of which i
can not, can never be free...a world
to lost to feel its flame

there is contraband
on my tongue - the laughter of a song
unsung - no one to blame or call
upon - to save a world you shared
with me - and as i collect the
words (the gift few
the days we had) the fire that we knew

not all space is equal
squared the leveling of our soul
it is weighed unfair

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012

photo by Taryn Simon

6 comments:

  1. in a world of concrete and crack....this poem def has a hardness to it bk...remnants...

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  2. A sad song, and brave. No, not all space is equal...and it hurts. Beautifully penned, bkm. Thank you.

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  3. loved the emotions on the tongue... so much said with something so little... and who hasn't been there

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  4. I dont know wether the image of the tatoo was literal or symbolic but i get the symbolical sense and I really like it... and the dashes...! congratulations for your blog

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  5. Thanks for commenting..and yes Anne the tattoo is symbolic - as we all wear them externally or internally...I am so pleased you like my blog...bkm

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