Pulse
you crawled into my bed that night
like some sort of giant insect
and i found myself spellbound
at the sight of you there
beautiful and grotesque
and all the rest of that bug stuff
bluffing your way into my mouth
behind my teeth
reaching for my scars
that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home
that night you leaned over
and threw up into your hair
and i held you there thinking
i would offer you my pulse
if i thought it would be useful
i would give you my breath
except
the problem with death
is we have some hundred years
and then they can build buildings
on our only bones
a hundred years
and then your grave is not your own
we lie in our beds
and our graves
unable to save ourselves
from the quaint tragedies we invent
and undo
from the stupid circumstances
we slalom through
and i realized that night
that the hall light
which seemed so bright when you turned it on
is nothing
compared to the dawn
which is nothing
compared to the light
which seeps from me while you're sleeping
cocooned in my room
beautiful and grotesque, resting
that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home
i thought:
i would offer you my pulse
i would give you my breath
i would offer you my pulse...
©1998 by ani difranco
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© 1998 kas28024@pegasus.cc.ucf.edu
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