the sun shakes itself loose from the plaster of clouds,

still awakening from the sigh of last night’s cold

you stoke the fire with your bruised tongue 

your hands all over my thighs

your eyes, everywhere but

you invent new languages in things left unsaid 

quiescence falls between us

an alarming tranquility that you nestle into

and inside of which i feel lost. 

you tell me that i’m getting farther away

right before you push me.


i lay my head down on your chest

listening to the powerful thudding 

of your heart

and although you passed your last physical 

with flying colors

to suddenly think that the fist sized organ i’m hearing

is responsible for the livelihood

of every inch

of the person i love most

is too fragile

to believe.

Mela Blust is an award nominated poet, as well as an artist. Her work has appeared in The Bitter Oleander, Rust+Moth, The Nassau Review, The Sierra Nevada Review, Collective Unrest, and many more. Her debut poetry collection, Skeleton Parade, is available with Apep Publications, and her new full-length is available with Vegetarian Alcoholic Press. She is a contributing editor for Barren Magazine, and you can find more of her work at www.melablust.com

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