the relentless crescendo

the relentless crescendo

poorly marked out, only a daub of paint
here there here where they’re there
I have left my imprint printed in printed on your chest
how foolish to love and love and to care
here there here where they’re there

pat me on my arm, I can tell this is making you uncomfortable

all the unformed sloppy parts of me
why would you cry for me?
I haven’t meant to burn right through
how crazy to imagine that I ever even never could
why would you cry for me?

heave through my lungs, I can tell this is making you uncomfortable

muffled through the speaker stack
we don’t dance we don’t wanna
I have got my face on my face face on that doesn’t see you
how strange to thresh and never movewe don’t dance we don’t wanna

sit on my lap, I can tell this is making you uncomfortable

Published
Categorized as Poetry

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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