Two Poems

Antonia Alexandra Klimenko

Enter Me Whole or Not at All

Why is your mouth
an open wound
that never weeps?
Surely you own a sound
that can open at least
one door to Heaven
that can enter me whole
or not at all

Even the city cries at night
I have heard it sobbing
under the straining metal
of its mighty erections
I have heard it moan
under the topple of stars
that melt in the sky

Dying streetlamps
stare back
at the press of your body
as you pour yourself
into me
a thin wine   before its time

And   still
your hand urges me
to perform the ceremony of molten dream
as the moon gets tangled
in the web of your smile

I cannot weep enough
for both of us   forever
Life is not a contest
and already it is dawn
Even in awe of your silence—
and it is profound—
the warm cum you wear
on my trembling lips
Time shall soon peel
like a mask

 

 

insomnia

that long grey yawn
that stretches you
beyond the pale
of your imagination
beyond the remote
of late-nite date nite
white noise Pink Floyd
God
I wish you were here

here
the cold breath of absent lovers
in bus terminals
in hospitals
in insane asylums
in graveyards
evaporates as smoke
or vapored angels
all
have disappeared through windows
beyond your trace–

those who you felt close to
but never really touched
the letter you wrote
but never mailed
to the suicide
whose heart you broke
reaches for your mind
just one last time
one last time
one last time

you roll another day
like a stale cigarette
in the all-nite diner of your soul–
a drunken masquerade on parade
in a dingy motel
just killing time
just killing time
let me entertain you

as death
floats around the room
paces the floor with the ticking clock
curls your blood and voyeurs
in and out of you
in and out of
twisted bed-sheets
dressers and drawers
shoes and socks
with two left feet
that know you
no better than strangers

it’s the inverted world
where
night is day
and day is night
where
right is left
and wrong is right
in the blue and lonely hours
Mirror stares
at her own glass face

Two Poems