Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.
Slivers by A.g. Synclair
I will drink gin with her in the afternoon
whiskey with unfamiliar labels
I will love her
the way a woman should be loved
without damage
like sunrise.
My face will greet her hands like a friend
like a lost dog or the crush of winter
You see, like Chinaski,
or Portnoy, I'm a lit fuse
one day my spark
will burn those little annoyances
right off the tips
of your fingers.
Like that bald elephant
disguised as a cop
like the missing tooth
of August
like a shadow
always two steps behind
I can see through the gray
through the falls
through the mottled
past that allows you in
and I will use mottled in a poem
this poem
because it fits you
like skin.
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.