Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 93.0: April 2011

To Love Poems
by Belinda Roddie

all I can offer is

percussive experience,

tom-tom heartaches and

timpani heartbreaks,

but what do I know besides

wishy-washy wishes

and projecting my own

insecurities to a

white-knuckled,

neck-cracking,

finger-snapping

audience

who probably knows where my

hands have been.

yet all I hear

as I stare at

rainbow hips and neon lips kissing

dew off the bumps on my face

is the incessant lub-dub,

love-dub, hug-love,

fuck-love

right in the tender spot below the

leather belt that

some would prefer for

spanking.

spare me the

pretense of a

blue-leaved lover

or tell me that

running away

from the brink of desperation

rips the road out

from under my boots and

brings me back to

kaleidoscope focus.

there’s a pattern

riding on horseback and

shooting a colt dragoon at the

first aid membrane sealing my

infantile fate.

all I can do is

bleed the pattern,

all the blacks and

blues, and

blow out the

waxy wick on my hot tongue

and then – then – I’ll pull a

semi-solid hallucination out

from between my teeth and

write another

love poem.

The work you see here was written in April of 2011. It was last edited on June 14th, 2012.