Richard King Perkins II

Darkless

 

For the first time

it’s

darkless

 

we’re unhinged 

by bits of sun

 

a sudden flood

of white blush humming.

 

The powder of day

blows across a floor

 

of remnant slippage

and linoleum repurposed.

 

The sky bends low,

close at hand;

 

we fill it with spirant smoke

and muscular bondage—

 

if not for 

committed willpower

and primitive instincts

 

I would have you

right now

in a full-term

afterglow.

 

Unwanted help

and sunset

 

would never arrive.

Less than Most

 

You know I don’t like

casual touching

 

it’s like something

out of a blue rain

 

textures too numinous

to define.

 

But when the thing

I am

 

stands next to the thing

you are

 

errata become erotic,

mystery a lubricant

 

and my arm wraps you

in a graceless half-hug.

 

Because poetry

is your native language

 

you repulse me

less than most

Onyx and Sawdust

She 

(meaning the girl

of a much greater story)

 

spent the first day of spring

bending glass animals

and folding little reminders of death

 

into jewelry 

that smelled like vanilla and rain.

 

She even thought for a moment 

that she could be alright

 

(but that was not her fable)

so as the songbirds left the courtyard

she nearly stopped breathing

 

suffocated by the treachery of onyx

and sawdust 

 

sprinkled upon the constellation of her skin.

 
 
 

THE COURTSHIP OF WINDS

© 2015 by William Ray