Death of a Nihilist [poetry]

28. tawny parts unfolded

we will measure

the space between us

by the vicious vibrating motions

of quantum particles

colliding within the glistening sweats

dripping off my nose bridge,

during another sweltering spring afternoon

where you cast your lines into

one fishless pond, over and over again.

the metallic ticks of your fishing pole's

reel spooling and unspooling

mark the seconds clicking by.

or we can count

the lengthening silhouettes of grass blades

and our summer-burnt bodies, staking out

by the water running behind your yard,

from sunrise to sunset, throbbing to

white-out tunes playing on an ancient radio.

the midday mounting heat quivers

to your hitched laughters, spilling out of

chapped lips and pearly teeth as you tip

your head against my mouth for a drag,

and i let the faltering guitar and jazz

thrum through my bone marrows.

we will tally

warbled, wavy worn-out tractor's

treads left on my freshly-tilled soil

the same way i trace stretch marks

snaking across stretches of your underbelly

and wide thighs, where the soft impact sounds

of oak acorns dropping, one at time

rolling amongst the surrounding

bumpy, roots-covered ground,

became the tentative gasps and hoarse groans

split from the red sepal and stem

of your throat and windpipe.

and we will weight

this space between us,

adding every aching atoms

made up my muscles and mind

to your yellow-hazed yearning

for yesterday and forever-youth,

till the rhythm of freezing rain

tapping on frosted window panels

meets the goosebumps racing down

our bare snapes and spines,

till an occluded front lifts

the evaporation of our shared exhales.

⸻

prompts: radio & space between