Red.

here’s a poem based on federico garcia lorca’s “romance sonambulo” (http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/romance-sonambulo/)

Red. How I want you red.
Red pulse, red exhale.
The empty envelope on the floor and
the hand on the doorknob.
When the outside air hits her face
She burns dry ice, pockets the smoke.
Red shiver, her mouth red
Sucking in yellow and exhaling green.
Red, how I want you red.
In the Brooklyn night,
the shadows are sewn to her shoes,
hitchhiking.

Red, how I want you red.
The streetlights are blind policemen
Baking her footsteps into quiet
and wrapping the horizon in like a snowglobe.
The trees are sorcerers of movement,
every branch shaking slow,
beckoning naked stars
to rip off the black bathrobe of sky.
But who is waiting for her? And where?
She is standing on the porch, twirling red hair
like an ambulance siren and humming.

-i want to sew parachutes
into her rust-filled hangovers
be the vodka
and the water
my blood drips static
spiraling like a conch
for her to crawl into.
i am spinning. this thump,
this whisper
this anchor
dropping.

Red, how I want you red.
red blink, red grind.
every busy signal stretched to a solid hum
i am whispering white flags
into my veins
and sleepwalking home
if you want me,
unravel this shadow and shake me.
i will not crush
red to red anymore,
i just want
to be happy.

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