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Joyelle Osburn Poem
What else do we have
but what we can hold
in our own two hands?
Reticent whispers of honey
sprinkle on my chest
and I find that soughs
deplete the sweetness
burned into me.
In the palm, I hold
a blade of bluestem-
dancing, swirling,
wanting me to taste,
what she tastes,
when it rains.
I want some of that redolence.
I desire the sigh and suck
of a splitting cantaloupe
to wake me,
the seeds to carry
these lips to sing,
the juice to nurture,
and my words
penetrate the wind-
carrying love to every ocean.
If the honey reaches my tongue,
I will remember that
too much sweetness will keep you forever.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
I remember many days perhaps
not intended for me.
they were harvesting days,
in fields,
in towns where little boys
won't sit in cheap seats.
on winding roads,
I would walk,
naked and cut;
mouth full of salt and blood,
wearing the necklace
carefully formed
by my mother's tears.
had I waited for the
dark, dripping, dampness
of winter,
I would have missed
the sight of you
rising from the dust,
fingers at my throat,
grasping the pain
that encircled my neck,
never fully taking hold.
you should have saved me.
had I waited,
maybe the aroma of
the smoke-filled skies
would have led me to
a town where little boys
never cared if I were
cheap or not;
a town where you
finally love me.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
During the silent film,
we wrap into each other like
twisted licorice.
I can feel your breath-
inhaling
exhaling.
I spin around and ask 'is forever enough'
while your jet black eyelashes
strum the greatest love song
against my cheek.
I share the taste of pink lemonade-
your mouth on mine
playing tag with lips-
my taste buds
e x p l o d e
in ******
as you feel me up
in gum drop dreams.
I tuck clouds of falling hair
behind your ear and
swear to eternal sleep
in those arms that
protect me from the rain.
to the dark you sing
a song and I am
memorizing the notes
that drift lower and lower-
resting in the unknown
that you call your favorite.
I want to press every bit
of my skin into you-
telling how you make me dizzy
when you put those
sugar coated lips to mine.
can I tell you how
much I miss you
every time I blink?
before the previews are over,
I'll strip myself
and skinny-dip in all
those words you'll
never have to say.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
Every Sunday, I'd hopscotch
to the top of the hill
behind your house.
Not because it was fun-
but because I knew you
would watch me-
and you watching
made my head dizzy
with laughter
so terrific and shattering
my ears would pop.
You used to tell me to
go pretend wherever I
wanted to pretend;
the world was mine-
never be afraid.
The day after you died,
I hopscotched my way
down your hill
where you used to
watch me,
I stole the hope
you had for me,
and embraced it as if
I would never see it again.
I haven't.
The world isn't mine
and I'm still afraid.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
In a deep sleep, I walk
down hallways of your house
in search of you,
my freedom-
the one that makes
my world seem okay.
through frozen eyelids,
I watch a formless silhouette
dance on every wall
thrashing its arms at
dead moss on your doorway.
with a sudden halt,
like a gasp at the gallows,
I step back
while dead bees form
the red carpet for
my grand entrance.
I'll cover you in warm earth-
beg for a bed beneath your lips.
I'll stagger
into your bedroom,
cut off my hands,
and finally let you go.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
There is something unexhausted of you
in this aging washed-out coat
and I lift my nose
to taste the smell that desires
to be invited-
ignited in the closing of your breath,
untarnished and thirsty.
Like rage, it licks,
streams,
and enters my dreams
glossy as brilliance-
you-
rush in my mentation
with warmth that comforts
my skin.
I breathe you in unfathomable-
not wanting to exhale.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
I
feel
nothing
but
< >
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
I have replaced you, pitifully,
many times in rooms
within my soul.
Everywhere, there are
passageways curling
boxes of draggled vesture.
My spirit, like the
static of negligee,
gums and forms into
a faultless mount.
As it clings to me,
I set aflame with desire.
Close your eyes.
Let me blind you.
Assassinate me
until I bleed red
like holly berries.
Then, I will wear their
spiked leaves as a crown.
You can never reach
to enclose yourself
within the dying breath
my lungs hold.
I feel as though you
are abashed as if
the mind has been
carved available for eating?
Take what is seen as I
lie here naked and naive;
the last pig to carnage.
You have stolen everything.
Tonight, while you undress my history,
I mix my drink with stars
and toast to you.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
I taste your meek cravings;
your numbing friction of desire
you are my fiend; my devil;
my good-for-nothing share
of saddle-sore pleasure.
I let your unrighteous lips
savor my own
with shameless animation
letting your fingers
incinerate me entirely
as your name escapes
my tongue-
entangled in a moan.
your embrace propels me
again to the
bottomless hell.
please, let me sink deeper-
tasting Purgatory-
feeling Heaven.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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Joyelle Osburn Poem
they palpitate and stir,
spurn and sneer,
over steeps and peaks,
through time and space,
then fall-
bleeding out
like a double death
of creatures so vast,
they stamp out the sun.
somewhere there are tornadoes
spinning and thrusting
across the plains.
somewhere a thunderstorm dies.
somewhere I'm begging a stranger
to assault me-
just so I can remember what it's
like to be touched.
Copyright © Joyelle Osburn | Year Posted 2009
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