in the way that it is the most rotten fruit to swallow. in the way that it haunts me at night and kisses me in the morning. in the way that it sinks but I can still touch it so I sink with it. in the way that it hates to be written and loves …
Tag: literature
(Poems) – falling action
there’s red in the sunlight, i can taste it in my tongue: heavy and holy— i’m dying in the sunrise with hollowed bones but no wings. I never left my country, barely left my home. the morning burns my eyes, and it’s quiet here, alone.
(Poems) – constellations
the best thing about the stars is that they aren’t watching us too. we drew the lines ourselves. god isn’t going to come down and set our aim true. there aren’t enough fingers to pull blame into a straight line. there isn’t another white man leading the earth on its revolution around the sun. or …
(Poems) – a retrospective
it’s a selfish friend, unwilling to share, keen to flaunt. a golden memory of sunshine: cool to the touch. a first kiss in a parking lot: poisoned by what follows. the people you loved: memories recorded over. a home tinged with disinfectant. the one who betrayed you. the past has nothing to give but shattering …
(Poems) – To (you)
I’m not sure who I’m talking to anymore. It’s you, obviously, but I don’t know who you are. God doesn’t know who you are. The best window into a person is through the ribcage, not the eyes. Could you be (future) me? Those who I love (have loved?). A friend I’ll make, or one I’ve …
(Poems) – gray ohio
trapped beneath a rolling gloom, tasting the blooming death. we sit beneath a blinking sun, because hatred grows best in this soil and we relish the bite of winter thorns and blood-soaked billboards. what else grows here but corn and asphalt and steel? what else does heat do but leave?
(Poems) – rotten dogwoods
The churches are full of gilded hunger, drunk on blood, praying with hands closed. But the pagans pray with their hands open, So I leave the rotten dogwoods, for the shivering willows, and spread my hands out, breathing so deep that my lungs could fit the entire world inside. The kids won’t be alright, but …
(Poems) – metallic
And I am cold metal pressed against your skin in winter when the snow takes your fingers and ears and nose and the wolves and doves gather to eat their piece the sky is pale and full the earth swallows the sound And I am that metal again in summer when you lick it and …
(Poems) – achilles – 54 words
The back of my heel is bleeding. But it’s not my weakness, or my downfall. I can’t find one part of myself that’s indestructible or strong or remarkable A Greek hero that’s all heel, with no great acts to do, with no story to be told. There’s no fatal flaw here other than me.
(Poems) – ghosts – 132 words
Most ghosts I know are still breathing. I see them in the things I want to tell them, the time we could’ve had. They’re a shadow on my threshold, whispers in my ear. A simple fact of life, but it feels like being hollowed out. They don’t have to die for me to mourn. x …
(Poems) – 4:01 AM – 71 words
It’s a dark — and quiet — night. The moon waits at the window, lacking the peeking curiosity of the sun. The July wind stirs the blinds, followed by orange street lamps and distant stars. Your head is on my shoulder, hair tickling my nose. You sleep. I listen to the soft stirring of the …
Ben Sidorenko's Writing 