Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...

erbacce-press

Brian Carlin

In a heartbeat

In the time it takes
a pool of blood
to leave the chamber,

or a thin layer
of mucoid film
to blur a blinked eye.

As quick as a hair
on an alopeciaed head
dropping out,

or sweatbeads
to break
on a bare back.

At the point
where breathing in
turns to a sigh.

Where consciousness turns to dream.

On that cusp
I balanced us
and waited for us to fall.

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Also by Carlin:

I will blow blue smoke

 
I will blow blue smoke
around the dimmed cornices of our 3 a.m. bedroom,
for you do not have the puff to announce your death.
Your breath stumbles and trips
from your wanting, lavender-blue lips.
Pushed up by overfilled ash-tray lungs.
Enough.
Cough your hopes up-
all your hopes and breathless aspirations.
Your liquid memories have flown from you.
Your dessicated,
tenuous,
dry,
cigarette-paper-thin
Grip on life
is strengthless.
If I could inject a viscous sentence
a gelatinised word or two to hold you together...
Lifeblood from my fingers to the keys to the page
  to your eyes to your heart
then woman I would.
But
You are a wisp, a blue airless wisp.

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To purchase a copy of this book click on the cover or if you use paypal add it to your orange shopping cart...

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