September 11, 2012


Les Misérables

You’re a massive American flag in the wind
and I’m a red Victorian farmhouse
surrounded by wheat.
You’re somewhere right now in stealth mode.
You’re somewhere right now surrounded by dishes.
I am here with a hangover.
Like a brown striped pickup doing slow doughnuts
in my skull. Like the sun
waving its creamy arms in the street.
But I love the word Misérables. It rounds out
in my mouth until my whole mouth
is warm. A hundred beautiful boxes filled
with different geodes couldn’t make me happier;
ships of wet gunpowder couldn’t.
It makes me comfortable
to say this. A draft blowing
on a closed shower curtain makes me
uncomfortable. I mean
when I sit beside a shower curtain
it can move eerily as if someone
were behind it.
There’s a certain short ballad playing in my glass.
It begins: when I was afraid
I took all my animals to bed with me.
When I was afraid I spoke to my brother about my skill with knives
and we sat up all night back to back, singing.

–Bianca Stone

  1. treee reblogged this from hanatomic
  2. hanatomic posted this