The Cacographer

Untitled (I thought about titling this piece in quotes, but I'd rather not. I also thought about ending the poem with "the coffee brewed." Thoughts?

in the french press,
after the first pour,
mystically floating,
above the mesh,
after you've roused,
between glass,
before the neighbor knocked,
swirling irritably,
while tasting the first cup,
after your boyfriend’s skin is washed from your nails,
before the second pour,
while you're still naked,
anticipating lips,
after your neighbors called me your boyfriend,
an inch above,
after your hysterics,
because hydraulics,
reflecting my belly hair,
floating on wire,
before you had nothing to call me,
after you punched your car with nails,
rumbling black,
after you stripped,
waiting for lips,
before you sifted me,
without grounds,
reflecting my brazen belly,
before my bedroom nailed back burned,
trapped in the decanter,
before you stripped my title,
dissolving the glass,
after you flayed your boyfriend’s back with bedroom nails,
after my rumpled clothes sank and I rose,
waiting and waiting for lips,
before your neighbors asked why I hit them,
swirling and strained,
after you called me your boyfriend,
anxiously expecting lips,
before you've dressed,
after you called me your boyfriend,
suspended by air,
after you’ve pulled your skin soaked nails from bed,
ruthlessly black,
before your neighbors ask me why I hit them for calling me your boyfriend,
reflecting my swirling belly hairs,
before I threw the cup,
while you washed my taste out,
before I poured the second cup,
before I kicked myself out,
floating an inch above wired sieve,
before you watched the still shuddering door,
while waking up,
mystically in air,
floating in suspense,

posted by OrangeDrink @ 3:26:00 AM