poetry

backwards

Autochromes Lumière stéréoscopiques~Image via Éditions Sur la Banquise.

when you step your foot on the thin film of the sheet,
there is a red lampshade, moist and speaking mute voices.
you take a right turn then and you see a pill of god.
you slurp it backward, at the tip of your tongue,
thinking it shall slip softly down in your stomach,
hushing the coiled noises.

you always step backwards,
at night, like dirt, dust.
a morphed arm,
for you were a burden throughout the day
and you sulked too backwards,
life eating the humans.

prayers, chants
my lips curled, bitten like half-lit moon
speaking up things bizarre, backwards,
into the sky that spreads between my white legs.

i finish reading, walking all in a backward motion.
often i survive in this perfection.
i rub my hands, to circulate a thread of warmth onto my cheeks.
i live like that. Backwards.

36 thoughts on “backwards

  1. Great read, D! I enjoyed the repetitive “s” sounds throughout the first section as it gave off a more… sinister feel? At the very least, it amplified it and I loved how it read. Particularly loved this line: “life eating the humans” WOW! Love the opportunity to read you!! ~K 🖤

    Liked by 3 people

      1. Oh I got that part… I suppose I should I stated that I like the sound because I suppose it reminded me of a record scratch? My word choices have been poor recently so forgive me that. I loved today’s! 😄

        Liked by 1 person

      1. Am glad you think so. I actually imagined you stepping your pen on a white sheet, then turning the hand right to write the past, taking yourself backwards. Funny how the mind works when we read things. You are kindly welcome.

        Liked by 1 person

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